Harry Potter and the Progeny of the PureBlood
by Sunny Williams
Summary: Holy Horcruxes, Harry! All of your BOOK 7 questions answered! Drama ensues during Harry's final adventure. Everyone around him is keeping secrets! Can he destroy the Horcruxes, rescue Sirius, save the Wizarding World, AND get the girl? Completed 6-27-2007
1. Chapter One: The Magic Carpet

**INTRODUCTION**

_Dearest Readers,_

_To each of you who choose to read my story, I must first say – Thank You! Your time is valuable, and there are many stories for your consideration, so I'm grateful that you've decided to give mine a try. I hope that you love reading it as much as I loved writing it. It took a year, but I enjoyed every moment of it, and I'm quite proud of the result. The official date of completion was June 27, 2007, less than a month before the release of Deathly Hallows, so all of the events are my own speculation._

_I have meticulously researched Jo's canon and have tried desperately to stick to it. If you see something that doesn't seem right, give it time – it will probably be explained, but if not, I welcome corrections and I will do my best to adjust it. I want to be spot on!_

_With regards to non-canon inventions, if you do not like them, that is certainly your prerogative, but if you hang with me until the end of this, you will see that these things are essential to my version of the story. And reviews are encouraged and downright adored._

_As for other writings, you can find many interesting things on my website. I am primarily a singer/songwriter and actress, so if you'd like, you can download my songs (including wizard rock songs from my band, Alohomora) for FREE! here: www . sunny-williams . com_

_Thank you again for your time and interest. We all share this marvelous love for Harry Potter and his world, and these are truly special times, awaiting the seventh book together. I hope that my story will keep you satiated for a bit in the meanwhile._

_Love,_

_Sunny Williams_

**BOOK SEVEN**

**Harry Potter and the Progeny of the Pure-Blood**

_Sunny Williams_

**Chapter One – The Magic Carpet**

They had advanced beyond the large iron gates. Breathing heavily from the escape, the man seized the boy's arm, and with a loud cracking noise, disappeared from the spot where they had been standing.

It was so dark that they could barely see around them. The night was soundless and heavy. Severus Snape looked about uneasily as he knocked his fist insistently on the large wooden door of the mansion that now stood before them.

"I told you that I didn't want to come back here," the boy hissed at him.

"Quiet!" Snape snarled back.

The door opened upon a tall, thin woman with long white-blonde hair, whose face was harsh and cold. Another blonde head stood behind her, but this girl was much younger, much smaller, and her features were not at all severe.

"Draco!" exclaimed Narcissa Malfoy, welcoming the boy and his companion into the house. It smelled of incense and antiques, a place bursting with proud ancestry.

"Is anyone else here?" Snape asked as they entered, his voice almost inaudible.

The woman shook her blonde head in response as she put her hands on her son's shoulders and began to examine him. His pale face was flushed, his equally pale hair windblown, his breathing heavy and inconsistent.

"How are you?" she asked him.

"Fine," the boy replied with a petulant look. "Don't _nettle_, Mother."

She frowned disapprovingly at her son, but she turned to the man who stood on her left and breathed gratefully, "Thank you, Severus."

Snape nodded curtly to her, the greasy black curtains of hair falling into his face.

"So it's done?" asked Narcissa, taking the boy's chin and turning his head from side to side, inspecting. He swatted in irritation at her hand.

"Albus Dumbledore is dead," Snape confirmed, regarding the pair of them with distaste.

Narcissa released the boy and smiled wickedly. "I am very proud of you, Draco."

Her son shamefully averted his gaze, smoothing his robes distractedly.

"Severus?" Narcissa asked, turning to the man, uncertainty clouding her eyes.

"I was forced to do it myself," said Snape dryly.

"But…" Narcissa began, "but the Dark Lord will not accept this!"

"No, I suspect that he won't," Snape agreed.

Terror spread over Narcissa's pointed face.

"But he'll kill us both!" she squealed. "What are we to do, Severus?"

Snape turned his eyes to the small girl who had been watching silently. She had a hand to her stomach, as if something wasn't sitting well with her.

"I assume, by now, that the Secret Keeper has revealed to you the location of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?" Snape asked her.

The girl met his gaze and simply nodded in response.

"Narcissa, you are to take Draco to the headquarters. The Dark Lord will not find you there," Snape said to the mother who was still neurotically studying her son. The stately boy continued to appear annoyed by her attention.

Narcissa halted and stared disbelievingly at Snape. "There must be some mistake! They would never allow us in!"

Snape's upper lip curled into a knowing grimace. "Arrangements have been made. They are expecting you."

"I will not congregate with blood traitors who work against the Dark Lord!" she cried, clearly distressed.

"Very well. But he will soon find you and I do not expect he'll be very forgiving."

Narcissa looked frightened at this thought. She glanced questioningly at the young girl.

"I can only protect him to a certain extent if we stay here," the girl confirmed.

"Protect _who_? Me?" Draco interjected at this point. "Mother, who is she, anyway?"

Snape answered him instead. "She is here to see that you survive."

Draco looked at the girl suspiciously, and then said, "No one can protect me now." His face remained stoic, but his voice was layered with trepidation.

She confidently returned his stare, replying, "_I_ can. And the Order can."

The boy looked doubtful and seemed as if he wanted to argue, but he said nothing more, merely narrowing his eyes at her.

"I must go," Snape declared abruptly. "The Dark Lord will be expecting me."

He turned again to the young girl. "I can only presume that I will be wanted for murder. Therefore, contacting me may prove difficult at first. I will contact you. See to it that I can reach you by Floo."

She bobbed her blonde head in accord.

"Severus," Narcissa pleaded, "you will defend Draco to the Dark Lord? You will tell him that _all_ of the Malfoys are loyal to him?"

"Yes, but I don't know what good it will do," answered Snape, moving languidly towards the door.

Narcissa let out a muffled whimper.

"You will be safe with the Order," Snape said serenely. "Go there immediately."

The tall woman nodded.

Snape turned back unexpectedly and spoke quickly, firmly, "And you must make your repentance obvious to them and conduct yourselves as though you are no longer serving the Dark Lord. You will _not_ spy on them, cause any trouble, or draw any unneeded attention to yourselves. Is this understood?"

Narcissa exchanged a disobedient glance with her son.

The thin man looked at them coldly. "You will do these things, or they will be rid of you, and you will be easy prey. It is your choice."

He addressed the small blonde girl once more. "You will see to it that they remain… _inconspicuous_?"

"I will do my best," she replied, but she sounded as though she knew that it would not be easy.

"What about my father?" Draco asked hastily, his tone still fearful.

Narcissa nodded to convey that she, too, wanted the answer to this question.

Snape looked carefully at the pair of them. "He is safe in Azkaban… for now."

Then, speaking to Narcissa, he continued, "And see to it that you sever all contact with Bellatrix. She is devoted to the Dark Lord and will betray you."

"She's my _sister_!" argued Narcissa in outrage.

"She is first, and foremost, a Death Eater," Snape countered calmly.

"We are _all_ Death Eaters!" retorted Narcissa.

"Yes," agreed Snape, "but the Dark Lord is not so displeased with _others_ of us."

A wounded expression came over Narcissa's face.

"We will regain his favor, Mother," Draco comforted her.

"Yes," she muttered absently.

"In time," said Snape. "For now, you will take shelter with the Order."

Then Severus Snape saw himself out, into the warm summer night, leaving the other three to travel to a place where they were _very_ unwelcome indeed.

* * *

Harry Potter was standing on a ledge. No, it _wasn't_ a ledge. It was the window of the Astronomy Tower. Far below, a crumpled body lay in the grass. He was contemplating a jump. What was another body anyway, joining all of the countless bodies to go before him? Besides, the end of him could very well mean the end of all of the turmoil that he brought to anyone with whom he came into contact. The wind was in his hair, carrying a sweet fragrance to his nostrils. Was he brave enough to jump? _Cowardly_ enough? Could he leave behind his supposed destiny? Save the people that he loved? He placed a toe into the air, keeping his balance on one foot. His glasses slid down his nose as he surveyed the ground below. Then suddenly, two arms grasped his waist, pulling him back into the tower. He struggled to turn around, to see the person, but when he finally faced the inside of the room, what he saw wasn't a person at all…

He awoke in a cold sweat, the blood pumping in his ears. He could feel the adrenaline in his gut, a chemically induced motivation. He sat up in bed and looked into the blackness around him. The objects were perfectly clear in his head – a diary and a ring. This wasn't the first time that he'd seen them. In fact, he had had this dream almost every night, and every time, he'd awoken in frustration. He had never been able to make the jump. And he had always turned to see those two objects, the objects that were already destroyed. His problem was finding the _remaining_ Horcruxes. The task was haunting him. Unless he located them and managed to wipe them out as well, there would be no hope for him when he faced Voldemort. And he _would_ face Voldemort. He had to.

During the course of his last summer with the Dursleys, Harry's sleep had been repeatedly bombarded with nightmares. Even in the waking hours, he continually felt as though he were in limbo – unable to change the past and unable to take any forward-moving action. Unfortunately for Harry, he had had a lot of time to think. He had spent most of it reliving Dumbledore's last hours. He had felt the overwhelming fear and agony, over and over again. The image of Dumbledore lying on the grass beneath the Astronomy Tower bled against Harry's eyelids, and he couldn't burn it out. He kept remembering how Dumbledore had trusted him, and he had failed, by little fault of his own. This realization always brought on anger and regret. Why had Dumbledore let Snape kill him? Would Harry ever know the answer?

_The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's, _Harry thought, counting them out on his fingers. He couldn't recall how many times these same thoughts had run through his head. He didn't know where to start or where to look. He knew he could probably use some help, but wouldn't ask for it. There was one thing of which he was certain – he was on his own.

His first stop would be Godric's Hollow, where he hoped to find something that might guide him. Then he would search the places that made sense, like Hogwarts and anywhere that Voldemort had spent any length of time. And he would do it alone. He wouldn't risk losing any more of the people that he loved. He knew that Ron and Hermione would try to accompany him, so he intended to sneak away before the new term started, sometime in the night, when no one could follow.

His head throbbed, but his scar, itself, had been unproblematic. Harry didn't know whether this was a good omen or not. Voldemort had been practicing Occlumency against Harry for a long time now. He sometimes wished that this weren't the case, however, because he could use the insight, but he certainly didn't miss the awful dreams and crippling pain that he'd known in his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He sighed and looked around his small bedroom. The various broken toys and shelves of unopened books that belonged to his cousin, Dudley, stared back at him through the darkness. Though it was only nearing the end of July, this was his last night here at Privet Drive. He was leaving the Dursleys' earlier than usual, in order to attend Ron's brother's wedding. He was also going to spend his seventeenth birthday away from here, which gave him something bright to anticipate.

Tomorrow, someone would come for him. Then, he would see Ginny again. _Ginny_. He had missed her. Her flowery scent, her long, soft hair, her welcoming smile, her kiss… _Stop it_, he upbraided himself. He knew that he couldn't be with her now, or maybe ever, but, of course, it didn't change the way that he felt about her. Yes, tomorrow would be welcome. Harry longed for a distraction from the desolation that he felt in the home of the Dursleys.

Though he knew that desolation was now the path that he must travel. He had known this since Dumbledore's death. He had realized that the last of his protectors had abandoned him. He was by himself now, and destined to search for the Horcruxes and to face Voldemort, all alone. These notions loomed over him like a storm cloud.

Harry put a hand to his rumbling stomach. Just as the previous summer, he had spent the last few weeks shut up in his room, refusing almost all of the food that Aunt Petunia was delivering through the cat flap in his door. He had been much too miserable and troubled to worry about eating and had only left his room to visit the bathroom.

For some reason, Hedwig hadn't delivered a single copy of the_ Daily Prophet_ to Harry this summer. This was aggravating, as it was Harry's only link to his own world. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hedwig knew that the headlines would cause Harry nothing but more anxiety, and therefore, she was refusing to accept the paper.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had each sent numerous letters throughout the several weeks, but none of them had ever given Harry any insight as to what was going on in the Wizarding World. He had always felt so shut out over the summers, and this one had been no different. Nevertheless, the letters from his friends had been the only light in his life. He had loved reading Hermione's description of Crookshanks battling with hairballs. He had thoroughly enjoyed Ron's excitement over beating Fleur at chess. And he had relished every single word that Ginny had written. He couldn't wait to see them again.

Harry did, however, have an odd feeling that he might grow to miss the Dursleys eventually. After all, they were the only family that he had left. He wouldn't miss their insufferable behavior or the way that they treated him, but there was certainly _something_ that he would miss. Missing was pretty much all that he did lately. But missing was living backwards, and Harry had to move forward, no matter how ominous the future seemed.

Now that his heart had slowed back to a normal pace and he had resigned to the fact that there was nothing to be done in this moment, he lay back down and pulled the quilt up to his chin. He tried to push all thoughts from his head. Then he closed his eyes, but just as he was beginning to drift back to sleep, a knocking roused him.

He sat up, fumbling for his glasses. Shoving them onto his nose, he jumped from the bed, searching wildly around the room. The rap came again, and his eyes went to the window, where Mrs. Figg could be seen, gesturing for him to open the pane.

"What the…?" he said aloud, but he went to the window and slid it up quietly.

"Evening, Harry," said Arabella Figg cheerfully.

"_Evening_?" he croaked. "It's three o'clock in the morning!"

"Is it?" she asked. "I wasn't keeping up. Far too much going on, you know."

"Going on? What's going on?"

"Well," she began conspiratorially, her voice low and hushed, "rumor has it that Severus Snape was spotted lurking around our neighborhood just this afternoon. He's still at large, of course, but the wizard who saw him was unable to apprehend him."

Simply at the mention of Snape, Harry became enraged. He swallowed the emotion and choked, "_Our_ neighborhood? What could he possibly be _doing_?"

"Keeping an eye on _you_, they say," she answered. Then her tone grew motherly and she went on, "Harry, stay indoors and be on the lookout. The Dark Lord must be sending Snape to fetch you, and we certainly aren't going to make it easy on him, if this is the case."

"Snape is powerful," Harry replied, almost to himself. "If he came for me, there'd be nothing that I could do about it."

"Codswallop!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg.

"Shh!" he reacted instantly.

"Yes, yes, sorry," she apologized, lowering her voice. "But you needn't worry, Harry. I've only come to warn you to stay on your toes. Keep your eyes open, be wary, that sort of thing."

"Someone from the Order will be coming for me tomorrow."

"Is it that time already?" she asked. "The days sure do fly by, don't they?"

"Not really," he griped crossly.

She ignored him and went on, "You'll be of age soon, isn't that right?"

"Right," nodded Harry. Then, "Wait! How are you up this high?"

She beamed at him. "Squibs may not be able to _perform_ magic, but we can still make good use of magical items," she answered jovially, indicating below her.

Harry poked his head through the window and saw something very peculiar – she was standing upon a small rug, which was flapping in the breeze, but it remained sturdy and was definitely keeping her afloat. He grinned.

"Sorry about the rude awakening," Mrs. Figg said sheepishly. "Had to get my facts straight before I came to you."

He shrugged. "I never sleep well anyway."

Frowning, she shook her head. "Shame for a boy your age to have so much weight on his shoulders."

When Harry didn't respond, she sighed, "Try to go back to bed. And lock this window." Then she sunk beneath his field of vision and he lowered the pane, fastening the dead bolt.

He did go back to his bed, but he never managed to get back to sleep. There were far too many thoughts chasing each other around in his brain. What was Snape doing sneaking around the neighborhood? Was he really after Harry? Or was he just spying for Voldemort? Harry's blood boiled. Well, if Snape _was_ arrogant enough to show his face, Harry would put up a damn good fight.


	2. Chapter Two: Uninvited Guests

**Chapter Two – Uninvited Guests**

The next day, just as Harry had finished packing his belongings, never again to return to number four, Privet Drive, there was a knock on the front door. Downstairs, he heard Uncle Vernon's heavy footsteps thumping towards the head of the house. The door creaked open. Harry heard voices, but he couldn't decide who had come to collect him.

Hedwig safely in her cage, Harry locked the little iron door. "Say goodbye to this place, Hedwig," he told her. She rustled her wings and clicked her beak happily.

As Harry came down the stairs, carrying Hedwig in her cage and dragging his trunk behind him, he saw Aunt Petunia and his cousin, Dudley, standing closely behind Uncle Vernon. The three of them seemed to be huddled together for safety. Dudley, who was wearing a large Smeltings sweater, was ogling at someone in the doorway. Harry looked up to see who stood there. He stopped, suddenly, in his tracks, suspicion crashing through him.

It was Arthur Weasley, and beside him stood a very small girl who couldn't have been much older than Harry. He wouldn't have thought her older than him at all, except that she wore Ministry robes just like the ones that Mr. Weasley was donning. She was unreasonably pale, and her long white-blonde hair was settled upon her petite shoulders.

She looked up at Harry and caught his gaze. Her eyes were green, but no, too pale to be green; they were almost gray. She smiled at him and looked back towards Mr. Weasley, apparently expecting an introduction.

Instead, Mr. Weasley said, "Hello, Harry. I trust you've had a lovely summer?"

Harry nodded, but didn't speak. He was still staring distrustfully at the stranger.

Taking notice, Mr. Weasley offered, "This is Luci Keegan, from the Ministry of Magic."

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Harry," the girl said in an accent that Harry could barely detect over the snorting sound that came out of Dudley.

Her tone was friendly, but Harry narrowed his eyes at her and uncouthly mumbled a greeting.

"Well, then, dear Vernon, we'll be taking Harry off of your hands now," Mr. Weasley said to the plump man, whose face always seemed to turn a few deeper shades of purple when he was in the presence of Wizards.

"Very well," he growled, as Harry took the next few stairs down into the entryway.

"Well," Harry began, turning to the Dursleys, "I guess this is goodbye."

"Yes, yes, goodbye, then," Uncle Vernon said hurriedly, nudging them out the front door.

Harry turned back again, just in time to see a glimpse of Aunt Petunia's face before the door closed in his. Perhaps it was his imagination, but she had looked bereaved.

He stared unblinkingly at the large brass "4" on the door for a moment before turning to follow Mr. Weasley and the young woman in the Ministry robes.

"Lovely folks," the blonde girl was saying.

"They aren't the most pleasant of Muggles," chuckled Mr. Weasley.

"That's putting it mildly!" she agreed.

It was a beautiful summer day as the three travelers made their way past the rows of houses along Privet Drive. Birds were chirping melodically and the sun was peaking through the puffy, white clouds.

In front of Harry, Mr. Weasley chatted casually with the stranger. He was enthusiastically asking her about some Muggle artifact of which Harry had never heard. Though they seemed nonchalant, Harry could see that they were both clutching their wands tightly inside of their robes. He wrapped his fingers around his own.

"I understand you traveled here upon an… _airplane_?" Mr. Weasley asked her incredulously.

She nodded, smiling at his fanaticism.

"And how, pray tell, do they stay _up_?" His voice was quite a bit higher with excitement.

She shrugged. "Beats me. Muggles have a magic all of their own."

Mr. Weasley agreed wholeheartedly with this statement.

They were approaching the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, where, two years prior, Harry and Dudley had been attacked by Dementors. Harry appreciated that his last summer at Privet Drive had been fairly uneventful.

To his surprise, the girl suddenly slowed her footsteps, so that she was walking side by side with him. Something heavy fell into the pit of Harry's stomach, and he realized that he wanted her to go away.

"I'm sorry there was no warning that I'd be joining Arthur," she said to him.

When he didn't respond, she continued, "I hope you don't mind, but I have to admit that I really just couldn't wait any longer to meet The Boy Who Lived."

"I'm not a boy anymore," Harry blurted angrily. Then he didn't know why he'd said it.

She grinned, despite his frosty tone. "I can see that."

"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley, stopping in the alley. "Now, Harry, you haven't yet received your Apparition license, so I'll have you take my arm."

Mr. Weasley extended an elbow and Harry clutched it.

He had almost forgotten the discomfort of Apparating. He felt like his body was being squeezed through a narrow tube and his lungs were being crushed. Just when he thought he'd suffocate, he was gulping a deep breath of air. He tried to shake the sensation as the three appeared before the large wooden door that led into Grimmauld Place, which was now Harry's home, he supposed.

He hadn't known that they'd be coming _here_. He felt an abrupt melancholy as he realized that this was his first time back at Grimmauld Place since Sirius had died. The thought seemed to displace all of the oxygen. He watched hazily as Mr. Weasley tapped his wand once against the door, right underneath the silver serpent knocker. Harry heard the locks clinking inside and then the door swung open quietly.

Harry, Mr. Weasley, and the blonde girl tiptoed through the corridor, so as not to wake Mrs. Black's portrait. But it was in vain, for a chorus of voices immediately greeted them, causing Sirius's mum to erupt in accusatory bellowing.

"_Silencio_!" someone commanded, and her shrieks were quieted. This had never worked before, so Harry assumed that the members of the Order had finally gotten rid of some of the portrait's enchantments.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, running towards him. He felt immediate relief and hugged her eagerly.

"How was your summer?" Ron asked, approaching him and beaming in welcome.

"Welcome back, mate!" he heard the twins chime from somewhere in the vicinity.

"'Arry!" Fleur was chirping. Then she emerged from behind Mad-Eye Moody and planted a kiss on each of Harry's cheeks, which instantly made them grow warm. Harry noticed that Bill, who had been standing beside her, looked much better than he had the last time Harry had seen him. His face was scarred, but the wounds were fully healed.

Mrs. Weasley shooed Fleur out of the way, saying, "Harry, dear, how have you been?"

It was quite a reception and everyone seemed to be happy to see him.

Just as he was looking for her, Ginny came towards him, throwing herself into his arms. He took hold of her, in an affectionate embrace. Her flowery scent filled his nostrils and it was as if he were breathing vaporous sunshine that flooded his body with joy. _This_ was what he'd been waiting for all summer…

As she pulled away, he breathed, "Hello, Ginny."

She grinned at him. He noticed that she had grown slightly taller than him now, and he cursed his genes.

"Come, come!" Mrs. Weasley was saying cheerily, ushering everyone into the basement kitchen.

Harry followed the small crowd downstairs, where people were seating themselves along the table.

Then his eyes fell upon the unfamiliar blonde girl again, and she was sitting towards the back of the room with… _Malfoy_?

Harry froze. "What is _he_ doing here?" he spat with disgust.

Hermione turned to him. "Don't overreact, Harry…" she started cautiously.

"_Overreact_?" Harry exclaimed. "He tried to kill Dumbledore!"

He pulled out his wand and started towards Malfoy, but Hermione seized his arm, holding him back.

"But he _didn't_," she said. "And he wouldn't have. You know that. He needed protection and his mother brought him here. Voldemort would kill both of them if he found them."

"I don't give a damn!" barked Harry, who knew all of these things very well. "I want him out of here!"

Harry noticed that the girl, Luci, was looking very apprehensive.

He turned to his friends. "This is_ my_ house and they've had him here without me knowing about it? And his mother too? And this… this girl I've never heard of?"

"We don't like it anymore than you do," Ron replied. "But we've had no choice."

"Well, _I_ do," Harry retorted. "I'm gonna kill him!"

Ginny stopped him this time. "This _is_ your house, Harry, and you have the right, but do the decent thing and let him stay. He hasn't bothered anyone. We've hardly noticed him, actually. Luci seems to keep him calm."

Harry was bewildered. His heart was hammering with anger. "He's the _enemy_! He's always _been_ the enemy! Why are you all suddenly his defenders? Let him stay because it's the _decent_ thing to do? You've gotta be bloody joking!"

"Harry." It was Lupin. "Can I have a word?"

Harry huffed and grudgingly strode over to him. He watched as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went to sit around the table.

"Glad to have you back," Lupin began, clapping his hand against Harry's shoulder blades. "Arthur wanted to tell you about Draco when he went for you, but we were afraid that you wouldn't come back at all."

"I _wouldn't_ have," Harry snarled, glancing at Malfoy and feeling fury overtake him again.

"Just relax, Harry," Lupin coaxed. "Dumbledore would have wanted him here, and he would have wanted you to be a gracious host, and you know that. Try to control your temper. Draco is _not_ the enemy. He made a mistake and he regrets his actions."

"But…" began Harry, irritably.

"Be the bigger man," Lupin recommended, steering Harry back towards his friends.

Reluctantly, Harry took Lupin's advice and pocketed his wand in defeat. He went over to sit beside Ginny, but not before shooting a menacing glare down the table at Malfoy and his two equally unwelcome companions.

"I've missed you," Ginny cooed in his ear as he settled himself on the bench.

He tried to swallow his rage and smiled at her. "I've missed you too."

"How was your summer, mate?" Ron asked him, for the second time.

Harry shrugged. "Lonely, boring. You know, the usual."

"Well, you won't be lonely around here, or bored, for that matter," Hermione commented. "Though Professor McGonagall did choose to open Hogwarts for the year. I, for one, have spent the summer revising for my N.E.W.T.s."

"Of course, you have," Ron teased her.

Harry thought it odd that, instead of her usual defensive attitude, Hermione just smiled warmly at Ron and kept talking.

"I was really surprised that they decided to open the school, but we're just as safe there as we are anywhere else, aren't we? And if people want to come, I think that they should be able to."

"Where's Snape?" Harry asked, abruptly.

"No one knows," replied Ginny in a hushed voice.

"Malfoy and his lot just showed up here at the beginning of the summer, asking the Order for help," Ron explained. "They said they didn't know where Snape had got off to."

"You've all been here all summer?" asked Harry, neglecting to mention that Snape had been seen in his neighborhood not more than twenty-four hours prior.

"Well, no," said Hermione. "We only just arrived a few days ago, but Lupin told us they'd been here with him and Tonks for the last few weeks."

Harry scowled. "Hasn't anyone considered that they could be feeding information about the Order to Death Eaters?"

He glanced loathingly across the room at Malfoy and noticed that Luci and Fleur were whispering and giggling about something.

"I'm sure someone has," Hermione replied, after a thoughtful pause. "But how could they? No owls have come or gone, and they wouldn't dare leave this place."

"Well, there are other ways to communicate, Hermione," Harry pointed out sarcastically.

Hermione nodded, but said, "From what I understand, they aren't welcome with the Death Eaters. It'd be stupid to contact them. They're safe here, and they know it, and I don't think they'd jeopardize that."

Harry must have looked as if he were becoming enraged again, because Hermione continued hastily, but quietly, "You know, Harry, I have some wonderful ideas about what we discussed at the end of last term."

But Harry had stopped listening. He'd taken notice of the bizarre occurrence at the other end of the table. Luci and Malfoy were now talking casually to one another, and Malfoy was _laughing_, something Harry couldn't ever remember him doing, except when it was malicious.

"Harry," Hermione prompted, "are you listening?"

"He has no right to be so cheerful," Harry growled, still paying no attention to Hermione.

"He's like that a lot, lately," Ron replied. "I think he's gone mad."

"It's like I said," Ginny added, "Luci seems to be good for him. Lupin says he was a mess when he got here. Scared of being killed by You-Know-Who and all."

Then a thought occurred to Harry. "Are he and that girl…?"

"God, I hope not," said Ron. "You'd think she could do a little better than Malfoy."

"She's an Auror," Hermione chimed in, "and she's three years older than him. I would doubt if she had any interest in him. I think she just realizes that he's gotten himself into a right mess."

Ron scoffed. "Maybe she's mad too. Who would want to spend any time with–"

"She's an Auror?" Harry interrupted. _An Auror gone bad?_ he thought to himself.

"Apparently," Ginny answered.

Harry was impressed, but not to the point of throwing aside his misgivings about her.

"_Anyway_, it's more important that Bill and Fleur's wedding is tomorrow!" piped Hermione.

"I can't believe he's going to marry _Phlegm_," Ginny said, sounding disgusted.

"It's not fair," added Ron, glancing sideways at Fleur.

"Ow!" he then exclaimed, as Hermione had jabbed an elbow into his side. "Sorry! I can't help it, you know."

"Try," snapped Hermione.

Ron gave Harry a guilty smile and shrugged. Harry, of course, knew exactly what Ron meant. Fleur could enchant any male within a ten-mile radius. He looked down the table at her, but instead, his attention again fell on Malfoy, who was still smiling happily, as the blonde Auror seemed to be telling him a rather amusing story. Narcissa Malfoy was watching this interaction quietly, and Harry couldn't help but notice the look of displeasure on her face.

* * *

Grimmauld Place actually looked, and felt, quite a bit different than it had upon Harry's last visit. It appeared that various members of the Order had continued to tidy up the place and it seemed much more vivacious overall. The absence of Kreacher also did a lot to boost the house's positive energy.

Mrs. Weasley had told Harry that he could now stay in Sirius's room, if it pleased him, but this idea actually nauseated Harry, and he had opted to stay in the room that he'd always shared with Ron.

Hedwig's cage and his trunk had been placed in the room at some point, unnoticed by Harry. The large cage, which sat next to Pigwidgeon's small one, was empty and Harry assumed that Hedwig had gone out to hunt.

He was sitting on his bed, next to Crookshanks. Ron and Hermione sat together on the bed across from him.

"And we've just been mulling around the house, listening to Fleur plan the wedding," Ron was saying.

"Still beats my summer," remarked Harry.

"At least it was your last one there," Hermione encouraged.

"I guess," replied Harry glumly. "But that just means that I'm no longer protected by anything or anyone."

Neither of them said anything.

Finally, Hermione asked carefully, "Harry, you aren't still planning to go off alone, are you?"

Harry looked at her. "You know that I have to," he responded after a moment.

She took a deep breath.

"I'll be OK," he said to her.

"I still think that we should come with you," Ron agreed.

"This is _my_ responsibility, and enough people have been killed already. I need to do it alone."

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "We've _always_ helped you in the past. And we've got the D.A. and lots of Aurors in the Order too!"

Harry hesitated.

"What?" asked Ron.

"I just thought…" he began slowly.

The two of them looked at him with interest.

"Well, Voldemort has an army, doesn't he? What if I had an army? I mean, ultimately, I have to finish him, but there'll be a whole load of Death Eaters with him, won't there? I could use the back-up."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"What do you think?" Harry asked them.

"I don't know, Harry…" Hermione began.

"I think it's brilliant!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione gave him a reproving look.

"What?" he asked. "He'd have a much better chance with an army of his own. It's only fair."

Harry and Ron both watched Hermione.

"I suppose…" She seemed to be thinking aloud.

"You'll go back to Hogwarts and keep the D.A. meetings going?" Harry inquired.

"And you're going to Godric's Hollow," Hermione said, but it wasn't a question.

"If I can find it," nodded Harry.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "You don't even know where you're going?" she cried.

"Well, I intend to find out," Harry replied defensively.

"Oh, all right, I'll help you find it," said Hermione, maddened.

"I didn't ask."

"No, but you may as well have," she sighed.

Harry exchanged a grin with Ron.

"Someday, the two of you are going to have to learn to do things for yourselves," she scolded.

"Someday," agreed Ron teasingly.

"But Harry," Hermione said abruptly, "you aren't going to go looking for Horcruxes by yourself too, are you?"

Harry, caught off guard, stuttered, "Um…"

"Harry, you mustn't!"

"I just thought I'd pop 'round to Riddle's old orphanage and take a look," said Harry casually.

Hermione looked incensed.

Ron asked, "How would you even know if you found one?"

Harry shrugged.

Hermione sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and said, "It's such dark magic that most accomplished Wizards can sense the presence of a Horcrux, and Harry, if I were to guess, I'd say that your scar would tell you."

"So, yeah, _that's_ how," he said sarcastically to Ron, who shook his head.

"We want to go with you," said Hermione firmly. "I understand why you need to go to Godric's Hollow on your own, but we want to be there for the rest."

"We can't _all_ go to the orphanage," replied Harry impatiently, "and you lot will be at Hogwarts."

Hermione appeared stumped by this. "Fine," she said, after a moment, "but _then_ we're going with you for the rest, Harry, no arguments. We'll leave school. Send an owl and we'll meet you wherever you like."

Harry gave her a doubtful look. "What about your N.E.W.T.s?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, and Ron watched her expectantly.

Finally, she answered, "Some things are just more important."

Harry smiled fondly at her. "OK, we'll do it your way. Just be sure no one catches on."

His best friends both nodded, but Hermione looked as if she were devastated that she'd be missing the joy of revising.

"So…" Harry said, struggling to downplay his distrust, "what do we know about this Luci person?"

"Not much," replied Ron. "She spends a lot of time with Malfoy, so she can't be all right in the head, that's for sure."

Hermione interjected, "I think she's hiding something."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Haven't the slightest," she answered.

"So you think she's a bit dodgy?"

Hermione hesitated. "Well, no, she seems nice enough. She just kind of appeared out of the blue, though, didn't she? And with the Malfoys?"

"Luci's mates with Fleur, so that kind of fuels the fire," said Ron surreptitiously.

Looking affronted, Hermione responded weakly, "That has nothing to do with it."

"So maybe she's a spy or something?" asked Harry, thinking of Snape slinking around neighborhood streets.

Hermione shook her head. "I have no reason to believe that. I'm just saying that you should be careful around her."

Ron chortled. "Luci's harmless. Look at her! She's _tiny_."

Harry hoped that Ron was right, but he knew that Hermione was seldom wrong.


	3. Chapter Three: The Wedding

**Chapter Three – The Wedding**

The house was full of excited voices when Harry and Ron had made their way downstairs the next morning. The girls were preparing to leave for the Burrow, where the wedding was to be held, before Bill could get a glimpse of the bride. The groom and his party would follow a few hours later.

Harry had wondered aloud why none of the Weasleys were staying at the Burrow in the first place, and Ron had informed him that Grimmauld Place was considered the safest location for everyone, in view of all of its enchantments.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was flustered, her cheeks reddened, as she was hurrying the girls around, shoving a piece of toast at each of them.

"Oh, I couldn't eat!" Fleur shrieked at her, tossing the toast over her shoulder. It hit Ginny, who glared at Fleur. Harry and Ron both laughed at this.

"Save yourselves!" Mr. Weasley called to them as he was toasting bread with his wand. "It's too late for me!"

Happy not to be involved, Harry and Ron each snagged a few slices of toast and hurried from the kitchen.

Once back in the room that they shared, Harry watched Ron pace nervously, nibbling his toast.

"I've never been in a wedding before," he was saying.

"Aren't you just going to be standing there?" Harry asked him.

"Well… yes. But it's very important, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged.

Ron appeared sick, much as he had done before the Quidditch Cup match the previous year.

"You're worried about pleasing Fleur, aren't you?"

Ron looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

Harry laughed. "I promise you, mate, she's not even going to notice you."

"Gee, thanks," grumbled Ron.

"You know what I mean."

Ron put a hand to his stomach.

"Fancy a game of chess?" Harry asked, hoping that this might distract his best friend.

Ron nodded gratefully, and they enjoyed a lively game, with Ron easily beating Harry, as was expected.

Mr. Weasley knocked on the door a short while later, signaling that they would be leaving soon for the Burrow. He also delivered two freshly pressed sets of dress robes – one for Ron, along with a pale gold tie, and one that Mrs. Weasley had obviously picked up for Harry.

Ron gave Harry a look that said that the game of chess had only been a temporary diversion from his anxiety.

* * *

Once at the Burrow, Harry realized that he was much better off if he was out of the way, safely watching the goings-on. Fleur was locked in Ginny's room, along with Ginny and Gabrielle, until the ceremony began. All of the Weasley boys were upstairs, dressing and taking care of last minute details.

The back garden was elaborately decorated in gold. Harry had seated himself beside Hermione, in one of the many chairs that had been set up. She had pulled her hair into something fancy on top of her head and wore a lovely, long gown. When Harry had asked whom she was trying to impress, Hermione had blushed furiously and declared that she was merely attempting the proper appearance for a special occasion such as this.

Mrs. Weasley was still rushing around restlessly, directing people who, in turn, paid her no mind. At one point, she had stopped in her tracks on her way past where Harry and Hermione were sitting. She had smoothed her hands over Harry's head, muttering, "This hair of yours," in exasperated tones. Harry was relieved when she had finally given up and went back to welcoming the arriving guests.

The atmosphere was full of an intoxicating flowery scent that reminded Harry painfully of Ginny's hair. He tried to distract himself with the things going on around him. Guests were entering the garden intermittently and seating themselves, the chairs filling up rapidly. Most of them, Harry didn't recognize, and he assumed that they were people who worked with Mr. Weasley at the Ministry.

Harry noticed a tall, thin couple talking with Bill near the back door of the house. They were both blonde and surprisingly striking.

"Must be Fleur's parents," suggested Hermione, who had also noticed the couple.

Charlie Weasley, who Harry had only met twice before, in his fourth year, had also appeared. He came over to say hello to Harry and Hermione.

"All right, Harry? Good to see you again," Charlie said enthusiastically, pumping Harry's hand.

Harry grinned. "You too."

"And Hermione, I imagine you've been keeping Harry and Ron in line?"

Hermione smiled demurely, but nodded in response.

"Well, see you lot after," said Charlie, who was abruptly being pulled away by a frenzied Mrs. Weasley, as he was not yet donning his proper dress robes.

To Harry's great surprise, he saw Percy Weasley seating himself, inconspicuously, in the back row of chairs. He nudged Hermione, who turned to look and gasped in delight.

"Bill will be so pleased!" she whispered.

Soon, the rows were filled and the hour was nearing. Bill, still looking anxious, situated himself underneath the awning, next to the Ministry representative who was to officiate. When he seemed settled, a plump witch with graying hair began softly playing a harp.

At this point, Mrs. Weasley hurried down the aisle, looking frazzled, and plopped down beside her husband in the front row of chairs.

Almost immediately, Charlie appeared from inside the house, escorting Gabrielle on his arm. Fleur's younger sister was as awe-inspiring as Fleur herself. The tall, thin woman watched proudly from her seat in the front row.

Ron, looking tense, followed shortly, ushering Ginny. Harry couldn't help but grin at her. She, too, was very pretty in the dress that Fleur had chosen, and his heart fluttered. She smiled significantly at him as she and Ron passed and he was overcome with a desire to take her away into the far recesses of the house where they could be alone…

Fred and George surfaced from the house then and traipsed towards the awning together. Harry saw that they were wearing gold dragon skin jackets. He chuckled to himself.

When the wedding party had gathered at the front, all of the guests stood to welcome Fleur, who emerged, bright-eyed and glorious, on her father's arm. Harry swiftly felt very lightheaded. He looked up at Ron, who had turned bright red and had closed his eyes, also looking woozy.

Bill was beaming and finally appeared to have relaxed. Fleur floated down the aisle towards him, the sound of the harp accompanying her flawlessly. He took her hands when she met him under the canopy, and Fleur's father stepped to the side to stand next to her mother.

"Please be seated," the Ministry official said to the guests. With a rush of noise, they obeyed.

"We are gathered here on this lovely day to witness the union of Bill and Fleur," the official continued.

Harry saw Fred and George making revolted faces. He smiled, but Hermione, who had also noticed, looked appalled at their behavior. She huffed quietly and shifted in her seat.

What followed, Harry could not recall. He tried desperately to concentrate, but his thoughts were scattered, and he found himself pondering the Horcruxes, once again. He had realized that wedding procedures were terribly dull, and slightly nauseating, if he was honest about it. He knew that there had been vows and rings exchanged, and that Hermione had sniffled incessantly throughout the entire process. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Bill and Fleur were kissing passionately and everyone was standing and applauding.

The crowd began to disperse and people were gravitating towards the refreshments.

"I'm going to go check on Ron," Hermione told Harry, who responded, "Don't be too hard on him about drooling over Fleur." She narrowed her still-teary eyes at him and then walked away without another word.

He noticed Mrs. Weasley fawning happily over Percy, thanking him for coming. Her son wore an expression of annoyance and patted her indifferently upon the back. Harry shook his head in resentment.

A few moments later, Harry saw Malfoy's little mate, Luci, who must have arrived for the reception, joyfully embracing Fleur. The girl was seemingly offering her congratulations, and they exchanged a few giddy words.

The harpist had continued playing and people were dancing in the garden. Fleur broke away from the blonde girl and went to dance with Bill, who opened his arms lovingly in welcome. A tall mousy-haired man was taking photographs, and Harry thought to himself that the newlyweds were absolutely glowing.

Luci wasn't left alone for very long, as Charlie had asked her to dance, and the pair of them were laughing together as they moved around with everyone else.

To his bafflement, he then noticed that Ron and Hermione were also dancing together inside of the crowd. A strange feeling came over him, like he was suddenly very alone. He watched them silently, the awful sensation swelling more so, the longer that he looked.

"Wanna dance?" came a lovely voice.

Harry turned to see Ginny grinning at him. She handed him a glass of punch.

Still struggling with the odd vibrations that were gathered together in his gut, Harry swallowed.

"Maybe later," he mumbled, forcing a smile, and then he left her standing there.

Harry found a path into the house and stood out of the way in the back of the room, sipping his punch, the punch for which he'd forgotten to thank Ginny, he thought guiltily. He watched the people around him for a long while, glad to be in the background for once. He had decided that he wasn't very fond of weddings.

Eventually, Luci the Auror came through the back door, saying cheerfully, "Oh, hello, Harry," as she was passing.

He smiled awkwardly and began to murmur an unenthusiastic greeting, but noticed Fred and George approaching her.

"Luci," Fred called to her.

She turned to acknowledge the twins.

"Listen, we have a feeling that our brother is going to ask you out," Harry heard George tell her.

"Which one?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A reasonable question," said George.

"That'd be Percy," Fred answered her, pointing towards his brother.

"And what makes you think he'll be asking me out?" questioned the girl.

Fred grinned. "We heard him telling someone from the Ministry that he fancied you."

"Ah," she replied in understanding. "Obviously, he's blind, yes?"

Harry was confused by her self-inflicted insult, but George just grinned and said, "We thought it'd be fun if you told him that you were dating _us_."

"_Both_ of you?" She looked interested.

The twins nodded.

Smiling, the blonde girl said, "That seems a little mean-spirited, doesn't it?"

"He's an awful prat," said George.

Fred nodded. "He deserves it; believe us."

She hesitated, and then, sounding amused, replied, "Well, why not? _If_ he asks."

"Perfect!" the twins said in unison. They clapped her encouragingly on the back and walked away, Fred calling after himself, "We'll be listening from afar!"

The Auror drew nearer to Harry. He felt a swooping sensation in his stomach as he realized that they were alone.

"They're fun, eh?" she said to him.

"Yeah, a riot," Harry answered, grinning despite himself.

"Was it a nice ceremony?" she asked.

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "I guess so."

"Wow, they weren't kidding," she whispered abruptly. "Here he comes."

Percy approached, extending his hand to Luci. She took it as he said, "Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Minister of Magic."

"Luci Keegan," she offered in return.

Percy glanced at Harry as if he were the only thing standing in the way of true love. Harry took this as his cue to leave and went over to join the twins, who were looking mischievous.

"Here," Fred said, handing him a long flesh-colored string.

"Four-pronged Extendable Ears," George explained, at Harry's questioning glance. "New product this year. Group eavesdropping, you know."

"Nice one," Harry commented. He noticed that Percy was chatting haughtily to the girl, who nodded cordially, but Harry could tell that she was bored.

"Turn around, you idiot!" Fred commanded him. "He'll be suspicious."

Harry hastily turned his back to Percy and inserted the Extendable Ear.

"I have a lot of responsibilities and the Minister trusts me implicitly," Percy was saying. "I accompany him wherever he goes and keep records of all of his important matters. I'll have his job one day."

Harry found this rant to be entirely uninteresting. Then he heard Percy say, "I understand that you're an Auror?"

"Yes," Luci started to answer, but Percy hadn't stopped talking.

"As personnel of the Ministry, we have a lot in common. Therefore, I wondered when you might like to discuss these commonalities over dinner with me?"

This seemed to be the first time that Percy had paused to let her speak.

"I'm sorry, but I'm seeing someone," she replied.

"Oh?" Percy sounded astonished that anyone had gotten to her before he did.

"Two someones, actually," she continued.

"_Two_?" croaked Percy.

"And seeing as how Fred and George are just over there, it would be quite impolite for me to accept."

"F-Fred and… George?" Percy stammered.

"Mmm hmm."

Percy didn't say anything, but Harry imagined him gaping at her and grinned to himself.

"Don't worry," she said then. "I won't tell them that you hit on me."

Harry heard Percy take a sharp breath. Then he stormed past the three listeners a moment later, casting a repugnant look at Fred and George, who sniggered.

"That was brilliant!" Fred exclaimed to Luci as the three of them joined her.

She shrugged. "Glad to be of service!"

The twins heartily shook her hand and departed, appearing extremely pleased with themselves.

"I'm going to go say goodbye to Bill and Fleur," Luci then said to Harry, and he followed her into the next room to do the same.

* * *

When the newlyweds had gone, and the guests had made their exits, the others stayed to clean up. Harry was helping Ron fold up chairs, while Hermione was demanding "_Scourgify_," at the lawn, where cake, punch, and confetti had been strewn. Ginny, who, like Harry, was still underage, was gathering the litter by hand.

"Glad that's over," Ron muttered to Harry as he waved his wand over the folded chairs, causing them to disappear before their eyes.

"Yeah, I thought you might pass out before it was over," Harry teased him.

"Thanks," replied Ron sarcastically. "You can't say you didn't come near passing out too."

Harry inclined his head in agreement.

"Wasn't Fleur just beautiful?" Hermione was saying to Ginny. Ginny was pretending that she had found Fleur to be absolutely repulsive.

"Hermione's being so girly over all of this," grumbled Ron.

"So?" replied Harry.

"So," Ron said. Then his cheeks reddened. "So it's annoying, that's all."

Harry glanced at him inquisitively. "OK?"

At that moment, Mr. Weasley came into the garden.

"Looks like we're just about all done here?" he asked the four of them.

They all nodded, as they had just been finishing up.

"Back to the house, then," said Mr. Weasley, disappearing again through the back door.

The four of them filed into the Burrow and came to find that Mrs. Weasley had been crying. Luci was patting her comfortingly on the back.

"Percy left without saying good-bye," whispered Fred.

Disgusted, Ron asked, "How thick can he be?"

"Pretty damn thick," replied Ginny, angrily.

George patted Ron on the back. "Take care of her for us, little bro."

Then, with a loud CRACK, the twins Disapparated.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Mrs. Weasley was saying to Luci, who was offering her a glass of water. "I just need a nap. Stressful day, you know."

As they were all leaving, Harry noticed Charlie catch Luci's arm.

"It was _really_ nice to meet you," he said to her.

Luci smiled brightly at him. "Likewise."

Harry watched them skeptically. Perhaps he should warn Charlie…

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley was insisting.

"Huh?"

"If you'll take my arm, _please_," she replied, her voice still choked up from crying.

Harry noticed that she had been holding her elbow out to him. Everyone else, aside from Charlie and Luci, had already gone. Reluctantly, he took Mrs. Weasley's arm and found himself back at Grimmauld Place just a few moments later.

Luci didn't return for some time after that, and Harry had a disturbing notion that she'd run off with poor, unsuspecting Charlie. When she did come back, it was just in time for supper, and she wore a very pleased expression as she sat down with Malfoy at the table.

Beside Harry, Ron and Hermione were speculating on who might teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.

"Perhaps McGonagall will give the job to Trelawny so she'll stop whining about having to share her subject," Ron suggested.

Ginny laughed.

Harry was half-listening to all of this. The new Hogwarts professors were the least of his worries.


	4. Chapter Four: Coming of Age

**Chapter Four – Coming Of Age**

Harry and Ron were already digging through the pile of presents at the foot of Harry's bed when Mrs. Weasley stuck her head through their bedroom door.

"Happy birthday!" she chirped. "Do you like them?"

Harry had just discovered a pair of newly knit socks in the Gryffindor colors of maroon and gold.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he smiled appreciatively at her.

A delighted grin spread over her face. "Everyone is downstairs waiting for the two of you. This is the most important birthday you'll have, Harry, and it should be celebrated properly."

"We'll be right down, Mum," Ron assured her.

She nodded and closed the door.

"You think I could wish for Voldemort's agonizing death and be done with it?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron chuckled. He'd obviously gotten used to Voldemort's name, probably thanks to Hermione.

"If only. But at least you're finally of age."

"Yeah," replied Harry apathetically, continuing to look through the presents.

Ron and Hermione had pitched in together to get him new Quidditch gloves, in hopes that it would persuade him to return to Hogwarts. Harry shook his head at Ron and he frowned in disappointment. Ginny had given him an album of clippings from all of the newspapers that had been hailing him as a hero. There was a large box of Pumpkin Pasties from Lupin and Tonks. Hagrid had sent over a package of rock cakes. And, of course, the twins had been quite generous, delivering loads of treats from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Downstairs in the kitchen, a lavish celebratory breakfast awaited Harry. He and Ron entered to a chorus of birthday greetings. They joined Hermione and Ginny around the table, Harry smiling at the room at large and muttering gratitudes.

Harry noticed Malfoy and his mother at the far end of the table. Malfoy looked very unenthusiastic about all of this birthday business. He had always hated when Harry had received attention. Of course, so had Harry himself.

However, Malfoy's discontentment thrilled Harry, so he would enjoy this birthday as noticeably as possible.

"The food looks great, Mrs. Weasley," he said loudly.

"Thank you, dear," she smiled.

Luci came into the room a few moments later. As she passed Harry, she put a hand gently on top of his head and said cheerily, "Happy birthday, Harry."

The physical contact was an invasion of space that should have angered Harry, but instead, it was as if her touch had sent warmth trickling down his entire body. He looked up at her and he wanted to say, "Thank you," but the words somehow got lost on the way to his mouth.

She smiled, as though she knew what he had meant, and went to sit beside Malfoy, who was still shooting murderous glances in Harry's direction. The two of them instantly started bickering about something, but Harry couldn't hear their voices over the festive chatter around him.

The food didn't only _look_ great, but it tasted great too. Mrs. Weasley had really gone all out for Harry's seventeenth birthday, and the table had been piled with fluffy pancakes and eggs cooked in various ways and toast and sausage and a vast assortment of pasties. Harry ate far too much, and so did everyone else.

* * *

During the evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the drawing room together. Hermione was attempting to put together a map for Harry that would guide him to his parents' house in Godric's Hollow and then to Voldemort's orphanage. She had reminded Harry that he could have looked in a wide range of history books to find the location of Godric's Hollow, and even the exact spot whereon the house sat, if he'd only made the effort.

At present, she was sporadically sighing in frustration, but when Harry and Ron offered to help, she growled at them that they would only make things worse. So they were playing a game of hangman instead.

There was a soft rap on the frame of the door, which stood open.

They turned to see Luci, who looked very small in the overly large archway. Harry's heart did a somersault, and, though he was taken aback by it, he knew that it was merely a signal of instant distrust.

"Sorry," she said. "A late birthday present." She held out a small black box.

Harry stood and, feeling more lightheaded than the situation warranted, came over to take the box from her. His hand brushed hers and he felt goose bumps erupt all along his arm, just as he caught a whiff of something sugary.

He took his next breath through his mouth, and then nodded towards the box. "What is it?"

She shrugged. "I'm just the messenger." But there was definitely a twinkle in her eye.

"Thanks."

"Happy birthday… again," smiled Luci, and then she was gone from the doorway.

"Well, let's see it," said Ron, when Harry was seated again.

Hermione watched as Harry began to open the box. "Maybe you'd better not, Harry."

"Why not?"

"It could be… anything… from, well… any_one_."

"It's fine," Harry sighed, but in truth, he knew that Hermione could very well be right. He didn't trust the small blonde girl either, and she was acting oddly friendly.

With Ron and Hermione watching curiously, he opened the mysterious box. Inside, they found a large, rather unique key. Harry picked it up to examine it. It was scarlet in color, with an ornate handle carved into the shape of a phoenix. He turned it over in his hand. There were no engravings or anything that might tell Harry what this key would unlock.

"Is that a phoenix?" asked Ron, leaning in to get a better look.

Harry nodded.

"What does it open?" asked Hermione.

"No idea." Harry turned it over again, studying the handle.

Ron frowned. "No instructions?"

"Nothing," Harry replied.

The three of them tried a few spells on it. It did nothing and revealed nothing to them. Finally, they gave it up as a bad job, and Harry returned it to its box and slipped it into his pocket.

"Guess you'll just have to ask Luci about it," shrugged Ron.

"Guess so," Harry agreed, but he had no intention of doing this.

Hermione still seemed deep in thought and very wary of this present.

Harry tried to concentrate on his game with Ron, but he couldn't get the mystifying birthday gift out of his mind.

Eventually, Hermione said, "Harry, I don't know where your parents are buried."

Harry looked up. "There's nothing in the books?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, sorry."

With a sigh, Harry replied, "Hagrid knows. Will you get it out of him?"

Ron and Hermione nodded.

Just then, Ginny sauntered into the room. Hermione hastily handed the finished map to Harry and announced that she was going to bed.

"Me too," agreed Ron.

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Harry asked them.

"Not at all," replied Hermione, though she seemed a bit flustered by this question.

Then she hurried from the room, Ron close behind her, both of them calling clumsily, "Good night!"

This left Harry and Ginny unaccompanied in the drawing room. It was the first time that they'd been alone since Harry had called things off. For some reason, it felt as if there was a cloud of awkwardness floating over their heads.

Harry had stuffed the map into his pocket and Ginny had sat down beside him, in the chair that had previously occupied Ron.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Harry cleared his throat. "How was your summer?"

He knew they'd already discussed their summers. That was a stupid question.

"Missed you."

Harry grinned. "Yeah."

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

Then, Harry began, "Listen, Ginny, I need to tell you something."

She looked up at him.

"I've got to go visit my parents' old house, so I'll be a bit late getting back to Hogwarts."

Ginny's face contorted in surprise. "Why?"

"It's just something that I need to do."

"By yourself?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "But… what if…"

Harry smiled teasingly. "Are you worried about me?"

"Of course, I am," she pouted.

He put his hand over hers. "I'll be careful."

Ginny gave him a doubtful look.

"I promise. And I won't be gone long."

She nodded in accord, and then she leaned over the table and kissed Harry softly and much too briefly.

He looked at her in astonishment.

"I know we can't be together," she said quietly. "But I just needed to do that one more time."

Harry nodded, but he wasn't sure how to respond.

"Night, Harry," said Ginny, and she left the room.

Harry sat alone in the drawing room for the rest of the evening, studying Hermione's map. Before going to bed, he decided to try to find Luci after all, and to ask her about the key, but he was told by Tonks that she had gone out. When he had inquired about her whereabouts, Tonks had changed the subject.

* * *

The morning of the Apparition examinations had finally arrived. For their continued safety, Wilkie Twycross was coming to Grimmauld Place to test Harry, Ron, and Malfoy.

Malfoy seemed to believe that taking the test alongside Harry and Ron was somehow degrading.

"Think your luck will see you through this one, Potter? We all know you can't rely on _talent_."

On their way to the drawing room, where they were to be tested, Harry and Ron had met Malfoy on the landing.

"Shut up," snarled Ron.

Malfoy snickered. "Can't stand up for yourself, I see."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Now if you thought that was true, Malfoy, you'd have the guts to face me alone, but you never have, have you? Are you _lonely_ without your mates? I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle are lonely without _you_."

Malfoy let out a low hiss and began to retrieve his wand.

"Don't even think about it."

Harry felt his heartbeat increase significantly, and it had nothing to do with Malfoy and his wand.

The three of them turned to see Luci approaching.

She addressed Malfoy. "I leave you alone for one second and you pick a fight with Harry?"

Malfoy glowered. "How do you know he didn't start it?"

Luci glanced sideways at Harry and then looked back at Malfoy.

"Did he?"

Frowning, Malfoy replied, "I'm tired of you babysitting me!"

"Yeah, well, whose fault is it that you need a babysitter?" she reminded him.

He glared at her. "I hate being here."

Luci's expression softened and she said gently, "I know you do." She paused. "But shall we discuss the alternative?"

Malfoy recoiled at this question and gave her a defeated look.

"Behave," she said playfully to the three of them, and then added softly to Malfoy, "And go pass your test."

A few minutes later, the three boys, along with their instructor, were standing in the drawing room. In front of each of the students stood a large ring, the same as the ones they'd used at Hogwarts for practice.

"Now then," said Twycross, clearing his throat. "We'll go one at a time, and I'm sure I'll be issuing three licenses this afternoon." He smiled encouragingly.

Then, gesturing to Ron, he said, "Go ahead, Mr. Weasley."

Everyone looked at him expectantly. The presence of Malfoy seemed to derail Ron quite a bit.

Clearing his throat, Ron closed his eyes. Malfoy coughed obnoxiously.

Ron's eyes shot open. He threw a scowl at Malfoy and then closed them again, trying to concentrate.

He had just disappeared when Malfoy gave another loud cough. This caused Ron to reappear, without his left leg, in the ring in front of him. He toppled over. Malfoy laughed aloud.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, please refrain yourself," Twycross scolded impatiently, as he righted the problem.

Once he was back on his feet, Ron was permitted to try again.

This time, he succeeded. Harry clapped him on the back proudly, while Malfoy glared.

Twycross was making notes on a clipboard. "Well done," he commented to Ron, who was grinning happily.

Next, it was Harry's turn. Twycross told Ron that he was excused, but Ron said that he'd stay until Harry had passed as well.

Harry, feeling suddenly nervous, stared at the center of the ring.

"Cold feet, Potter?"

Harry met Malfoy's gaze.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Malfoy turned his nose up in response.

"Don't forget – you're only here because I allow it," said Harry, casually.

Malfoy scoffed. "That's what _you_ think."

Harry gave him a questioning look, but Malfoy simply continued to sneer.

Glaring, then turning away, Harry concentrated on the ring once again.

_Destination, determination, deliberation,_ he chanted to himself.

After a moment, he felt his body being pulled into that narrow tube. Almost immediately, he emerged, gasping for air. But he wasn't inside of the ring. In fact, he didn't know _where_ he was!


	5. Chapter Five: Godric's Hollow

**Chapter Five – Godric's Hollow**

Harry looked around. There was a large four-poster bed directly before him. To his right, there was an oak desk that was piled messily with papers. Was he still in Grimmauld Place? It _felt_ as though he was, as this room had the same gloomy ambiance of the entire house. There were no windows, and, apart from nails and wires dangling haphazardly, the walls were bare, leading Harry to believe that they'd been stripped of their hangings. In a corner of the room, someone had compiled a collection of portraits, their faces against the wall.

Harry moved cautiously across the creaking floorboards and then began to shuffle through the large black frames. There were a lot of people whom Harry didn't recognize. Names such as Belvina Ursula Black and Pollox Cygnus Black were printed in beautiful gold lettering beneath the occupants. Another frame read Regulus Arcturus Black beneath a portrait of a handsome young man, whom Harry knew as Sirius's younger brother. But there was also one blank canvas. Harry's eyes moved to the bottom of the frame, where the gold lettering read: Sirius Orion Black.

With a gasp, he dropped the heavy frame onto his toe. Harry took a sharp breath and ignored the pain. This was Sirius's portrait! But where was Sirius? And why was this portrait even here? Wouldn't Mrs. Black have gotten rid of it?

An irresistible hope came over Harry. He stared into the blank canvas and breathed, "Sirius?"

He received no response from Sirius's portrait, but Belvina said nastily, "Do you mind?"

Harry glanced into her frame. She was frowning up at him.

"Sorry," said Harry. "But do you know why Sirius isn't in his portrait?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Of which Sirius do you speak?"

"What do you mean – _which_?"

Belvina gave him an exasperated look. "This is a very large family, boy. I'm sure he'll return shortly. Now, if you would, _please_."

Harry sighed and turned her portrait back to face the wall.

Then he went over to the oak desk and began sorting through the mess. It was mostly clippings from the_ Daily Prophet_, dating all the way back to Harry's third year at Hogwarts.

Harry pulled on the handle of the solitary desk drawer. It resisted at first, but he was able to wrench it open. Inside, he found still more newspaper clippings. There, also, were a quill, an inkpot, and a few envelopes.

Harry pushed his hand to the back of the drawer. He withdrew… a small, square mirror. It was filthy and appeared to be very old. The mirror Sirius had given him two years ago! Was this his godfather's room? Had he been thinking about Sirius when he'd Apparated? What was his mirror doing here? He was sure that it was in the trunk in his room, and it was still shattered, whereas, this one was intact.

He turned the mirror over, expecting to find the note that Sirius had scribbled onto the back. Instead, the flipside was blank. This wasn't Harry's mirror at all! This was the mate that Sirius had kept, hoping that Harry would contact him, and never receiving word. Harry felt a jolt of remorse. If he'd only opened the parcel sooner, Sirius might still be alive.

Harry tried to push this thought from his head. He pocketed the mirror, looking around guiltily, and then laughed aloud at himself, as he was quite alone. He continued to search the desk, but found nothing more of interest. He wondered how long he'd been up here.

He went to the door, opened it, and found that he was, indeed, on the third landing at Grimmauld Place.

When he returned downstairs, Harry discovered that everyone had been frantic over his strange disappearance. He explained to them that he'd ended up in a field somewhere and finally managed to Apparate back, but had just barely missed his destination and had found himself on the third landing. He received a few doubtful glances, but they all seemed to be so relieved that they didn't question him any further.

He had to sit for his license again that afternoon, as did Malfoy, since they'd all abandoned the examination when Harry hadn't shown up in his ring. They both passed easily and Twycross informed them that all three licenses would be sent home with Mr. Weasley as soon as they were processed.

That night, Harry told Ron and Hermione where he _actually_ had Apparated and that he'd found the mirror's mate upstairs in Sirius's desk. He then realized that he hadn't yet informed either of them about the _first_ mirror, which he had shattered, so he also recounted _that_ story.

He retrieved his original mirror from the bottom of his trunk and handed it to Hermione, who was sitting next to Ron upon his bed. After mumbling, "_Reparo_," she stated, "Looks like a match." She held it up for Harry to see, and he noticed that the glass was still cracked and there were missing slivers, which were most likely somewhere in Harry's trunk.

"So if I can just get one of these through that veil to Sirius, maybe I can talk to him!" Harry explained excitedly.

Ron nodded with enthusiasm, but Hermione looked doubtful.

"I don't know, Harry…" she hesitated.

Harry snatched the pair of mirrors back from her and shoved them into his trunk. "Well, I'm going to try."

Hermione gave him an unconvinced nod, but Harry told himself that he had to hold fast to the hope that he would be able to speak to Sirius again. He _had_ to.

* * *

The remainder of the summer passed surprisingly quickly, and Harry was not at all ready to start his search by the time that August was coming to an end. He was having a wonderful time lounging around Grimmauld Place with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, though Hermione kept suggesting that they revise for their N.E.W.T.s. They had, so far, managed to avoid doing this.

They'd used their long summer days to play Exploding Snap and to continue practicing their defensive spells on one another. Harry had spent evenings talking to Ron and Hermione about the Horcruxes and strategizing over what he might do when he finally had to face Lord Voldemort. More than once, he'd noticed that the pair of them had disappeared and he would wait with Ginny, trying to reduce the tension between them in whatever ways he could think up. It was getting better, but there still seemed to be an unspoken discomfort.

Malfoy, his mother, and the blonde girl had mostly stayed out of everyone's way. Harry only saw them for meals in the basement kitchen. This suited him just fine, except that it irked him, not knowing what they were up to.

On one of the last evenings in August, Mr. Weasley brought home the Apparition licenses and the book lists, along with badges for Ron and Hermione, as they'd been named Head Boy and Head Girl. Mrs. Weasley was thrilled with this and told Ron that she would pick up something special for him when she went into Hogsmeade next day to get their things.

"Another Head Boy in the family!" Mrs. Weasley was chiming merrily. "And Hermione! How proud your parents will be!"

Hermione's parents couldn't possibly be any prouder than Hermione herself. She spent the rest of the evening gliding smugly around Grimmauld Place, her badge pinned to her sweater and her bushy hair billowing behind her.

* * *

The ceiling was in bad shape. Harry studied the cracks, as he lay in bed on the second to last night of August, unable to sleep. Across the room, Ron was snoring loudly.

Giving up on trying to rest, he pushed his glasses onto his nose and quietly climbed out of bed, careful not to rouse Ron. The floorboards groaned as his feet met them. He stood motionless. Ron snorted and rolled over, but did not wake. Stepping lightly, Harry silently made his way out of the room and down the stairs. He planned to do some research in the drawing room. He would be leaving the next evening for Godric's Hollow, and this would be his last chance.

Stepping through the intended doorway, he noticed Luci sitting on one of the sofas, with her back to him. Suddenly uncomfortable and extremely aware of being in his nightclothes, he turned to start back up to his room. However, in his haste, he forgot about the floorboards, which immediately gave him away.

"Harry?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't escape now.

"Sorry," he muttered, flustered.

"No, it's OK," Luci said, waving him towards her. "Come on in."

Harry exhaled in defeat. He turned and continued into the room, at last sitting stiffly upon the sofa that was facing her. He didn't want to be here.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked.

He shook his head self-consciously, keeping his eyes on his bare feet.

"Do you want me to make you some tea or something?"

Stunned at her offer, he looked up into her pale green eyes. "No, thank you," he replied awkwardly. Then, he noticed the book in her hands. "What are you reading?"

"Oh, I'm just refreshing my memory on some things," she replied, vaguely.

Harry nodded, not really interested in her answer anyway.

"But it's also a dreadfully boring book and should help me to fall asleep."

He clumsily played with his hands, pressing his fingernails into his palms. He didn't meet her gaze.

"You are a man of few words, Harry Potter," she laughed.

The sound of her laughter – or was it her use of his name? – made Harry's stomach feel as if it was trying to crawl out of him.

"Can I ask you something?" he requested, pushing back the tension that he felt.

"Of course," responded Luci, focusing on him as she closed the book and laid it in her lap. He noted the title: _Advanced Protective Spells_.

"How well do you know Draco Malfoy?"

She looked at him intently, considering the question. Finally, she answered, "He's really not that bad, Harry. He's made mistakes, just like the rest of us."

Her response only irritated him. "Everyone seems to want to defend that slime."

Luci winced at Harry's comment, and he wondered why.

"Sorry. I hate him," he apologized, half-heartedly.

She shook her head. "He isn't too fond of you either. He's combative; you have a temper. It's no wonder the two of you can't get along."

"You think _I _have a temper?" Harry asked defensively.

She gave him a knowing look.

"Yeah, OK," he admitted, "but he provokes me."

"I have no doubt."

"So you expect me to just put up with him and let him stay in _my_ house?" demanded Harry.

She looked uncertain of how to respond.

"Do you have any idea the things I've taken from him?" he added, when she hadn't answered.

"Yes, I do, actually," she replied. "And I know the things that you've done right back to him. You're not innocent."

Harry's mouth fell open at this retort, but Luci didn't look angry, and she didn't sound reprehending.

She sighed. "Listen, I understand that you're upset about him being here, and I want you to know that I'm keeping close watch on him. He isn't a threat to anyone. He's scared and alone and you're doing a good thing by letting him and his mother stay here." She bit her lip. "And me."

"No one really asked me," Harry replied. It was a rude thing to say, but it was the truth.

"I know," said Luci. "But you haven't kicked us out, and that says something wonderful about you."

"It's what Dumbledore would have wanted," he shrugged. "If that weren't the case, I _would_ kick _them_ out." He omitted _her_ from the phrase simply to be polite, though he wished that she wasn't here either.

"Somehow, I doubt that." She paused. "He would be very proud of you, you know. Dumbledore, I mean. For this, and for… lots of things."

Harry looked down at his hands. She was making a bold statement, and he probably should have been offended. Instead, he said, "I miss him," in the most nonchalant tone he could muster.

"I know you do," she sighed. "We all do."

"You knew him too?" Harry asked, his eyes darting up to hers.

Luci nodded thoughtfully. "Certainly not as well as you did, but he was good to me."

A wave of grief washed over him. "He was good to everyone." He took a breath. "Even people who didn't deserve it."

Did _she_ deserve it?

"Perhaps he knew something about those people that you didn't know," she countered.

Harry suddenly found himself desperately wanting to change the subject. He cleared his throat. "So what brought you all the way here from your Ministry?"

He didn't _really_ care, but he was stuck here for the time being and might as well make the best of it.

"Oh…" she started, and then spoke quickly, "Well, what's going on here affects all of us, and they basically wanted someone to report back to them and keep them informed."

"But you're an Auror, right? Wouldn't they give you a little more responsibility?"

Grinning, she replied, "I'm here to help, as well. We Aurors are great at multi-tasking."

Harry felt an unwelcome surge of admiration towards her.

"I think I'd like to be an Auror," he said.

"You'd be terrific at it."

"If I live to see the end of this year, that is."

"You _will_ live to see it," Luci encouraged.

"How do you know?" He hadn't meant to sound so unsure.

"I have a feeling," she smiled. "You didn't survive in the first place to die in the end."

He considered this, something in her tone buoying him unexpectedly. "Well, one of us did – me or Voldemort."

Luci didn't flinch at the name, as Harry was accustomed to seeing, but continued to watch him intently.

"The Prophecy?"

Harry nodded solemnly. The news of the Prophecy had been everywhere; she was sure to have heard about it.

Luci took a deep breath and shook her head, as if she thought that the whole thing was a terrible tragedy.

"His name doesn't bother you?" he asked her.

"Who? Voldemort?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged. "No, his name doesn't really have the same stigma in my country. I guess it's just not as close to home. It's really only a word anyway, isn't it?"

Harry appreciated that she shared his attitude, at least. "Yes, it's only a word," he smiled.

Reverting back to the subject, Luci said, "Voldemort _will_ be looking for you, especially now that no one stands in his way, as far as he's concerned. That's why you're safest here and at Hogwarts."

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he said without thinking, and then silently scolded himself. That shouldn't have slipped out. If he was being honest, she was oddly easy to talk to.

Luci eyed him, curiously, but she didn't seem surprised. "May I ask why?"

Hermione would be furious if she knew that Harry was being so open with Luci, but the Auror _could_ give him a different perspective… Of course, would Luci tell other members of the Order, or worse, Malfoy?

Harry continued to argue with himself, and he must have been quiet in thought for too long, because Luci said, "It's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."

Harry looked up at her. "No, it's just that–"

"It's OK," she interrupted. "No one will hear from me that you're leaving, but you don't have to tell me your reasons. We hardly know each other."

Harry didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to get out of this conversation.

"You're going by yourself?" Luci asked.

He nodded.

"No Ron? No Hermione? Not even Ginny?"

How did she know about Ginny? Was it obvious? Or had someone told her?

Harry shook his head.

"All right," said Luci, "I can see that you don't want me asking questions."

"It's just so much pressure," he sighed, abruptly, in frustration. Then, "Dammit," in response to his own lack of restraint, though she seemed to think the curse was regarding the pressure he'd just mentioned.

Luci raised an eyebrow. "Whatever it is, you don't have to do it alone…"

"Yes, I do," stated Harry, resolutely.

"Why?" she inquired, as if she genuinely didn't understand.

"When I care about people, terrible things happen to them. If everyone stays away from me, they'll be safe."

Harry stood hastily and stepped towards the door.

Luci stood, as well. "Harry."

He turned back, but kept one hand on the doorframe, partly to signify that he didn't want to discuss it any further, and partly because his name on her lips had unsteadied him once again.

"This is war," she said. "There are casualties, and they've happened to be people that you loved, but, in _no_ way is any of it your fault. You need to know that. You can't walk around with that kind of guilt inside of you."

Harry gaped at her. She sounded as if she knew everything, and it was exactly the right thing to say; though it didn't change his belief that it was, indeed, entirely his fault.

"Thanks," he muttered, as he started back down the landing towards the stairs.

"If there's anything that I can do for you, you'll let me know?" she called after him.

He nodded, but kept walking.

"Oh, and Harry?"

He turned and met her gaze.

She was now standing in the doorway of the drawing room, watching him.

"Be careful."

* * *

The conversation with Luci had calmed the waters raging in the rivers of Harry's mind, though he wasn't sure how or why. He felt more focused than he had since the end of term last year. Still with no desire to sleep, he decided that there wasn't any reason to wait until tomorrow to leave.

He returned to his room to quietly change and collect a few necessary items. At one point, Ron seemed to wake up and look at Harry, but instead of saying anything, he just rolled over. When Harry felt that he had what he needed, he started for the door. Then he realized that he might require a quick return, and he took a Galleon from his pocket.

"_Portus_," he mumbled, almost inaudibly. The Galleon quivered, emitting a soft blue light, and then came to rest in his palm. He pocketed it again. Then he threw the Invisibility Cloak over his head.

When he returned downstairs, he was relieved to see that the drawing room was dark and that Luci must have gone to bed. He crept silently down the corridor inhabiting Mrs. Black's portrait and slipped through the front door, locking it behind him with his wand.

Outside Grimmauld Place, the moon was low and the night fading as Harry mounted his broom and kicked off into the sky. He felt the wind hit his hair. This was still his favorite method of travel.

Hermione had given him very accurate directions. It didn't take him long to find the cottage, located exactly where Hermione had said it would be, in a small, seemingly deserted Muggle village.

He touched down softly in the moist grass, which made a squishing sound beneath the weight of his trainers. Harry froze there, motionless, paralyzed by the epic reality of where he stood.

This had been his parents' front yard. But that was a long time ago. It was obvious that no one had been here since that fateful Halloween night almost sixteen years ago. What was left of the small house was dilapidated, the roof caving in at places, not a single window intact. There was no front door, just a gaping hole where it once had been. It looked as if Voldemort had almost destroyed the place completely, and then time had taken its toll on what remained.

Harry realized that he was panting. A grouping of exhilaration, dread, and astonishment stirred within him. He felt the breeze of a new day's dawn on his hot face and noticed the faint morning sun beginning to play upon the dewdrops in the grass. He must have traveled longer, and farther, than he'd realized. But it was still dim, shadows haunting the shell of the structure before him. It gave Harry the creeps.

"_Lumos_," he said, and the end of his wand lit up. Hesitantly, he took shaky steps across the lawn and into the house, looking around vigilantly as he went. He propped his Firebolt against the inner wall to his left. Then he removed the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into his pocket.

He could scarcely move due to the vast amount of debris. The wind had blown in a multitude of rubbish, including leaves, tin cans, and so much dirt that Harry couldn't tell what color the floors had been. He stepped out of the way as a mouse scurried past him.

"Ugh!" he croaked, as he noticed a small dead rabbit lying within the rubble. It hadn't been there long.

Seeing his parents' home this way engulfed Harry in a myriad of gloomy feelings. This might have been a temporary hiding place for them, but it had certainly been filled with love at some point. Harry might have played in that yard or had family dinners in this room. He could only figure that he was standing in a combination living and dining area, because he had noticed a small dining table toppled over in the corner.

He moved through what was once a doorway and into the kitchen. It was small, and most of the appliances were still in one piece. He didn't think he'd ever seen so many bugs, however. He shuddered.

Harry stepped backwards out of the kitchen and tripped over one of the many boards lying chaotically on the floor. He fell with a thud, scraping his arm on a rusty nail that protruded from somewhere in the ruins. He yelped with pain and put his sleeve to the cut, which immediately became soaked through with blood. He cursed angrily at the nail.

Getting to his feet, he made his way up the small staircase. There were two rooms awaiting him. He stepped to his right and entered the first.

He felt his breath cease. This had been his parents' bedroom. The ceiling had fallen in upon the small bed to Harry's left. To his right, in a crumpled pile on the floor, was what had once been his cot. It was in pieces, and he had no idea how he'd survived its demolition. He touched his finger to the scar on his forehead.

A flash of green light obliterated Harry's field of vision. A high voice cackled with laughter, and his scar seared with explosive pain. He put his hands to his head as his knees forcefully hit the floor.

* * *

Harry was on the lawn of the cottage again, but it was the dead of night, and the house was entirely undamaged – small, cozy, and welcoming. He looked down to find that he was wearing black robes. He was suddenly much taller.

He was striding towards the house, but he wasn't moving his legs. What was happening?

Harry lifted his wand, except that it wasn't _his_ wand, and the front door flew off of its hinges. He made his way into the house, throwing things around in the process. He was blowing holes into the ceiling and walls with his wand, and he couldn't make himself cease.

_Stop!_ he was screaming, inside of his head.

Behind him, someone else was also creating destruction all around them, but Harry couldn't see the person.

Then, he heard his father's voice from the top of the stairs. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

"No, James, please!" came his mother's voice.

Harry felt horror surging up inside of him, but the body in which he traveled was functioning just fine, with no reaction to these pleas.

Then he saw his father standing before him, at the foot of the stairs, looking fierce and protective.

"Take me," he said from between his teeth, "but leave them alone."

His father's eyes then went to the person behind Harry, who sniggered. Harry recognized the disgusting sound, but he couldn't place the person's identity. He had just noticed his mother peeking guardedly down the stairs and into the room.

Harry laughed shrilly, and then said in a cold voice, "You think I have come here for you?"

But it wasn't his voice. In fact, he knew exactly to whom _this_ voice belonged, and the realization rocked him.

James had brandished his wand and seemed prepared to fight for his family.

"Go now, and no one has to get hurt," said James, but his voice was shaking.

Harry jeered at him. "You dare to command the Dark Lord?"

James held his brazen stare and then shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry had blocked the spell.

"Give me the boy."

James clenched his jaw. "Never," he hissed.

Then, nonchalantly, Harry said, "Have it your way."

He raised his wand and flippantly chanted, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

But James had flung himself out of the way and the spell instead blew a massive hole into the wall behind him.

Harry heard his mother scream, and she disappeared from the top of the stairs.

"You are only making this harder on yourself," said Harry casually.

"You thought I'd just surrender?" James spat, getting to his feet amidst the rubble.

A cold smile spread over Harry's face, but, of course, it wasn't _his_ face.

"So courageous, so proud…" he drawled coolly. "Such a pity that you're no match for me."

Then, lifting the wand again, Harry felt the words leave his lips once more. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

"NOOOO!" the voice inside of Harry's head was shrieking. But it was in vain.

In a blast of green light, his father had fallen to the floor in a crumpled heap.

The body, which Harry could not control, desperately though he tried, started up the stairs, continuing to destroy the house as it went. Another set of footsteps followed closely behind.

Finally, he found Lily standing over the cot.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry," she babbled through her tears.

"Stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside now."

"Not Harry! _Please_ no! Take me! Kill me instead!"

"I _said_ – STAND ASIDE!" Harry growled.

"Not Harry! _Please_! Have mercy!"

Lily flung herself over baby Harry, her long auburn hair falling into the cot and covering him.

Harry felt himself sigh heavily. "Very well."

The green glow flooded the room, accompanied by shrill, harsh laughter. His mother was lying on the floor and he was now peering down at himself, hardly more than a year old, his black hair tousled and his face pink and round.

Suddenly, staring into his own sparkling green eyes, he felt himself grow dizzy.

"You will not live to defeat me!" he yelled at his child self.

But he became feebler still. Those eyes, his own eyes, were weakening him.

He aimed his wand into the cot. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Then everything went black.


	6. Chapter Six: The Distant Relative

**Chapter Six – The Distant Relative**

When Harry came to, the sun was peeking quite solidly through the hole that was formerly a window, illuminating the ruins around him and warming his body.

He couldn't bring himself to move. Once again, he had been inside of Voldemort's mind, seen things from Voldemort's perspective. But why _this_? Why did he have to endure so much turmoil? He had never remembered suffering this much emotional pain. It had felt as if he had been killing his own parents. He curled himself into a tight ball and sobbed over this for a very long time.

Finally, when he had achieved composure again, Harry pushed himself onto his knees. He groaned, reaching for his wand and rubbing his sore legs. He straightened his glasses, which had fallen haphazardly from his nose and were hanging from his right ear. Blinking repeatedly, he tried to tell himself that it had been nothing more than an extremely realistic memory.

"Pull yourself together," he said aloud.

Harry staggered across the room, tracing the wall with one hand in order to keep his balance. He peeked into the small closet. A few moth-eaten articles of clothing still hung in their places. He ran his hands over a long black traveling cloak that must have belonged to his father.

Standing high on his toes, Harry reached up to the shelf above the hanging racks, feeling around for something, anything. Furry legs crawled over his outstretched fingers. He jerked his hand back in repulsion. Luckily, the shelf had been bare and Harry wouldn't have to risk his hand again.

The dresser towards the back of the room was the only other piece of furniture, aside from the bed and the shattered cot. Harry approached it slowly.

Two picture frames had collapsed onto their faces on the top of the dresser. Harry stood each of them up again, and then he stared longingly at them.

The first was held in the frame only by a few remaining shards of glass. It was a very faded photo of his parents holding him. He must have just been born. They were waving happily back at Harry, and his infant self grinned sleepily.

The second photograph featured only his parents. His father stood grinning behind his mother, with his hand on her very pregnant belly. His mother was winking. The glass was entirely gone from this photo. He ran a finger gingerly over his parents' faces.

There was a dull ache in Harry's chest. It felt horribly like the sensation he'd had when standing before the Mirror of Erised. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he pushed them back. He was being bombarded with so many emotions and he knew that he had to control them, at least, for now.

Clearing his throat, he opened the topmost of the four dresser drawers. It was filled with nicely folded socks. They seemed so out of place in the mist of the disarray all around Harry. Aside from a few holes nibbled through the fabric, the socks looked pristine and were perfectly aligned in tidy rows.

"Sorry, Mum," Harry mumbled quietly, as he began to sift through the socks, spoiling his mother's impeccable laundering. He wanted to make sure that nothing was hidden underneath this perfect filing. And nothing was.

Harry moved on to the second drawer, which contained underwear. He sorted through these items, as well, finding nothing but a stray bolt that had been rattling around inside.

Drawer number three held wool sweaters of varying colors, also neatly folded, but it held nothing more. The final drawer was empty. Harry found this to be very unsettling, but he didn't know why.

He straightened himself and took another appraising look around the room. There was nothing here that could help him. There was only his single worst memory. Harry glanced again at the remains of the cot. Swallowing the sick feeling that was rising in his throat, he quickly exited into the hallway.

The last room in the house seemed to be undamaged, apart from the effects of time passing and the presence of a family of small gray birds that had made their home in the ceiling's beams. A sliding glass door opened onto a small wooden balcony, and a sturdy desk stood to Harry's right. The adjoining wall accommodated two shelves, both of which held a few books each.

Someone had cleaned the place out! This insight awoke the fury that often lied dormant inside of Harry but was currently boiling so very close to the surface. He released a cry that would have shocked him under any normal circumstances. Then he began swearing and throwing objects across the room. He stormed the desk, tearing it open and chucking its contents onto the floor.

In his rage, Harry then picked up the few books on the shelves and hurtled them at the wall facing him. A letter fell from one of the book jackets as it crashed into the wall with a thud. Harry was just about to toss a lamp when he noticed this. He stopped, realizing that his face was sopping with tears and sweat, and replaced the lamp onto the desk.

He crossed the room, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and kneeled on the floor in order to pick up the letter. It was an aged piece of parchment. Harry unrolled it slowly.

"_Dearest Lily_," began the letter. Harry's heart surged into his stomach as he realized that he was holding a love letter from his father to his mother. Yes, the small, cramped handwriting was definitely familiar.

_Please don't apologize for your long letters. I look forward to each and every one of them – the longer, the better. As I've said before, it was my pleasure to tutor you in Potions. Stop thanking me! I just can't believe that you ended up being better than anyone in our year, including me!_

_I was sorry to hear that summers with your sister are difficult. She's only angry that she can't do magic. Try not to be too upset. Whatever she says to you, remember that you are beautiful and talented, and she's just jealous. At least your parents are supportive. I'm lucky to see a day when my father doesn't hit me._

Harry's grandfather had hit his father?

_Talent and hard work don't seem to make a difference to him. No matter what I do, I can't please him. I wish my mother were still alive. He was so different then._

_I can't wait to see you again. Only two weeks until we start our fifth year at Hogwarts! I hope that you enjoy the remainder of your summer. Yours always, Severus._

"Snape?" Harry exclaimed, leaping to his feet and cutting his finger on the parchment, in the process. He stuck the bleeding finger into his mouth, but retrieved it immediately when he remembered how dirty his hands were.

This letter was from _Snape_, not his father! Was his mother going out with Snape? Why would she do that? Questions exploded inside of Harry's head like firecrackers.

He picked up the book from which the letter had fallen, realizing that it wasn't a book at all. It was a wooden box posing as a hardbound. Inside, Harry found numerous letters. They all seemed to be from Snape, in the same handwriting, addressed to his mother.

Harry sat down on the floor, curiosity defeating the abhorrence swelling inside of him. He began to read through each of the letters. They were all fairly similar. Snape wrote charming things to "Dearest Lily," and Harry couldn't help but wonder how his mother had responded. And had his father known about these letters?

He had probably been sitting there for hours. The late afternoon sun was growing hot, and Harry found that the room had become quite stuffy. He gathered the letters and placed them back into their box. Getting to his feet and dusting himself off, he returned the book to the shelf. He thought that his mother would want them to remain there. He also knew that, had these letters had any real significance, the person who had cleaned out the cottage would have taken them along with everything else.

Harry picked up the books that he had thrown, looking through each of them, just in case, and then placing them back onto the shelves. Then he went to the sliding glass door. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it opened easily. The wooden balcony overlooked a small garden. The scarce foliage was entirely dead, save for one prominent oak tree. Harry knew that he should go, but he couldn't seem to talk himself into it. He felt like, if he left this place, he'd never return, and he simply couldn't bear the thought of that. He closed his eyes.

After a long time, he opened them again to find that the dusk had fallen around him. He was so exhausted that his legs were barely holding him up. Perhaps he could stay here, just until the morning…

His eyelids heavy, Harry started back into the house. He closed the glass door. There was a bed in his parents' old room, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to tolerate spending the night in there. Instead, he sat against the wall in this room, near the desk. He draped the Invisibility Cloak over himself, just to be precautious. Then, he put his head into his folded arms and deep, dreamless sleep immediately took him.

The dark, early morning hours came quickly. Harry felt as if he'd only slept for a moment when he opened his eyes, but the pain in his neck and shoulders revealed otherwise. He'd been there for many hours. He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his head around to stretch it.

He inched his way up the wall, slowly getting to his feet. The Cloak slid to the floor and he bent to pick it up. His head hurt terribly, as if he'd banged it on something, and he was seeing spots of blackness before him. He was very dizzy and a bit nauseous. He closed his eyes and stood against the wall for a few moments, gulping deep breaths to wash down the qualmish feeling.

When Harry opened his eyes again, his vision had returned. He drudgingly started back through the house, down the stairs, and into the front room. He glanced distastefully at the place where he knew his father's body had fallen. He felt a jolt of horror as he remembered the experience from inside of Voldemort's body, and then he shook his head, hoping that the memory might fly out of one of his ears and never return. No such luck.

When he reached the front doorway, Harry took up his Firebolt, which had waited patiently for him. He stood looking into the living room for a few moments, trying to pry himself away. Finally, he said aloud to the house, "See you," and stepped back onto the front lawn.

The day was dawning and the summer air was humid and heavy. Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself again, mounted his broomstick, took one last look at the cottage, and sailed back into the gray sky.

Harry traveled for many hours. Eventually, he was soaring over London, watching houses fly by beneath him. According to Hermione, the orphanage would be somewhere past the residences, in a more open area, surrounded by vacant land. The warm breeze was fogging his glasses, so that he had to repeatedly wipe his arm across them in order to see below him.

Harry spotted the orphanage some while later and landed softly in the trees near the outskirts. He removed the Cloak, shoved it back into his pocket, and leaned his broomstick against a tree. Then he began the long walk to the front door of the square building.

It was still fairly early in the morning and a gray fog was settled over the grounds. It made Harry go very cold, even though the air was warm and moist. The large, looming structure before him was somehow forbidding and made Harry feel rather dismal. He entered the grim courtyard, surrounded on all sides by high railings. He slowly climbed the stone steps and knocked purposefully on the door.

Harry was greeted by a small, round woman with white hair. This surprised him, until he remembered that Mrs. Cole would have been long dead by now.

The woman was gaping at Harry, as if she'd never seen such a sight.

Then Harry realized that he was bruised, bleeding, and downright filthy. He imagined she must think he was an orphan seeking shelter. _I _am_ an orphan_, Harry thought miserably to himself.

"C-can I help you?" the woman stammered.

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm…"

Well, he couldn't very well tell her who he _actually_ was…

"…A distant relative of a boy who lived here many years ago. I… I thought I might visit his old room?"

She gave him a scrutinizing look, then said, "Well, you look terrible. Follow me."

Harry followed her into the building and down a long hall, where they passed numerous children, all wearing gray tunics. As he looked around, Harry saw that the place hadn't changed much. It was slightly shabbier, thanks to time passing, but still spotlessly clean. Mrs. Cole's old office, however, looked entirely different. The mismatched pieces were gone, and had been replaced with cheap pine furniture and a large pink sofa.

"Have a seat," the frumpy woman said to Harry, gesturing to the sofa.

Harry hesitated, but then sat down.

The woman settled behind her desk and faced Harry. She looked tired and careworn, much as Mrs. Cole had done when Harry had seen her in the Pensieve.

"Now," she began. "If you need help, you can just say so. We have plenty of room…"

"Oh, no," said Harry quickly, "I'm seventeen."

The woman frowned at him.

Muggles weren't of age until eighteen, Harry remembered.

"I mean, I'm fine," he stammered.

She looked unconvinced.

"Really," he said. "I just… I wanted to visit my, um, cousin Tom's room. You see, I'm doing research on my family history."

The woman was watching him closely, as if searching each word for a hint of what the real truth might be.

After a moment, she said, "Tom, you say?"

"Tom Riddle, yes," replied Harry.

The woman's eyes grew larger, but she was silent.

Then she breathed, "The stories I've heard about that young man…"

"What stories?" asked Harry.

But at that moment, an untidy boy with dirty blonde hair, whom Harry thought was only a few years younger than him, popped his head through the door.

"Miss Staten," he said, "it's happened again!"

The woman groaned, "Oh, dear," and stood up hastily.

Harry stood too.

Miss Staten looked at Harry anxiously, but then gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Fourth floor, second room on the right. It's Timmy Duncan's room now, but he's not here today." She paused. "Just… don't take anything."

"Thank you," Harry said, trying to pour the sound of gratitude onto the words. "I won't."

She hesitated for a moment, giving Harry another look over, and then followed the blonde boy from the room.

Harry wanted to stay in the office and search through the files to see if he could find out more about these stories that Miss Staten had mentioned. But, since he thought he had a pretty good idea of the things that may have happened, he followed them out and back down the hallway.

When he reached it, Harry started up the large wooden staircase. The banister had been replaced recently, but the stairs creaked with age. He passed each floor, counting them out as he went.

Finally, he reached the fourth floor. He came to the second room on the right and found the door standing ajar.

A young brunette girl eyed him timidly as she passed on her way down the stairs. He smiled warmly at her, hoping to deflect her suspicions. This only caused her to hurry more quickly down the stairs. Harry thought he must look quite a mess.

He entered Riddle's old room, and, looking around to make sure he wouldn't be seen, closed the door and said, "_Colloportus_." The seal made its squelching noise and Harry felt certain that he wouldn't be disturbed.

He turned around to find that the room looked precisely the same. The iron bed sat before him and the identical old wardrobe was on his left. The room still had that bare, inhospitable feeling. In fact, a chill traveled down Harry's spine as he recalled Dumbledore's memory. But then, Timmy Duncan had left the small window open and a breeze was flowing in, so perhaps that was what had brought on the chill, though Harry found this unlikely.

If there were a Horcrux here, it certainly wouldn't be in plain view. With this knowledge, Harry began running his hands along the walls. He was paying particular attention to his forehead, remembering Hermione's words that his scar would react if he got near a Horcrux.

After traveling the length of the room, he got onto his knees and searched the floor. He checked under the bed and even beneath the mattresses, just for good measure. At one point, he thought that there had been a twinge in his scar, but then he decided that he'd just imagined it. He felt ridiculous. If there even _was_ a Horcrux, it seemed impossible that he would find it, especially using these methods.

Beginning to feel quite hopeless, Harry got to his feet and went to the wardrobe. He opened it to find one pair of trousers and a gray tunic hanging neatly beside one another. Then he thought that he saw something glinting out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked back, nothing was there.

His hands traveled along the entire inside of the wardrobe, discovering nothing, but picking up a rather thick splinter. Harry pried the sliver of wood out of his skin and closed the wardrobe with a bleak sigh.

Then an even more depressing idea occurred to him. He had only been near one real Horcrux, and he had felt absolutely nothing from Riddle's diary. Hermione was wrong about his scar.

Something sparkled above his head, tearing him from his thoughts. When the thing realized that Harry had noticed it, it zoomed out of the open window. Harry immediately ran to the windowsill, looking frantically for it. Then he followed his instincts as quickly as possible.

"_Accio_ Firebolt!"

His Firebolt responded with surprising speed. Harry jumped onto the broom and flew after the tiny dazzling object. For a few minutes, he couldn't find it, but then he caught a glimpse of it in the distance, gliding back and forth through a cluster of trees. He leaned into his broomstick and zoomed in that direction. When he got closer, he realized that it was a tiny pair of golden wings, but that there was nothing attached to these wings.

As soon as he was within reach, the wings rocketed off again. They seemed to be teasing him, but the glittering object didn't know that Harry had been the youngest Seeker in more than a century of Hogwarts history. He hurtled himself towards the wings, which seemed to look back at him in fear, obviously alarmed by his speed.

Harry seized them fairly quickly, but he nearly let them go again when he realized that they were charring his skin. He stuffed the wings into the pocket of his trousers, and they rammed against the side of his leg, struggling for release, but he firmly held the fabric closed so that they couldn't escape.

Once Harry had landed in Riddle's old room again, he kept his left hand over the pocket but examined the one that had been singed. It was blackened and throbbing where the wings had touched his skin. It felt as if a million tiny needles were boring themselves into his flesh.

Unexpectedly, an iciness enveloped Harry. He knew instantly. Turning, he saw the Dementor floating through the window towards him. What was it doing here? He felt his mind sink into the almost-familiar darkness. He was out of practice. Something happy. _Anything_.

He stumbled backwards into a wall, his Firebolt still gripped between his knees. His head was muddled. He fumbled for his wand, trying to keep his other hand over his pocket in order to secure the golden wings. The Dementor was leaning into him, and Harry felt his body go cold and his soul plunge into shadows. Everyone had been right – he shouldn't have done this alone. Luci had _just_ told him…

Suddenly, the blackness lifted. He didn't stop to question it.

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

Harry, feeling as if he simply didn't have enough hands, shoved his wand into his mouth and reached into his other pocket, fumbling for the portkey. Suddenly, he felt the odd jerk behind his navel and the rush of wind. Then his body slammed hard into the floor. The last thing he remembered was the shrieking of Mrs. Black's voice.


	7. Chapter Seven: Snape's Secret

**Chapter Seven – Snape's Secret**

Someone was touching his forehead. Panicked, Harry grabbed for the hand, his eyes flying open. He heard a soft gasp of surprise.

"Sorry," came Luci's voice. "I was just… Your hair was in your face…"

"I didn't know it was you…" Harry began, the words spilling out without his permission.

She blinked and then smiled awkwardly, and this was when he realized that the room was full of people looking down at him. Mrs. Weasley was sitting on his left, though he had just noticed. He felt heat rushing up to his face.

"How are you, Harry, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley softly.

"Er…" Harry started, sitting up in bed. "I'm all right."

He saw that someone had dressed him in his pajamas and that the wounds that he had sustained had all been bandaged meticulously.

"I found you in the entryway. Where the hell have you been?" Mad-Eye Moody was standing at the foot of the bed.

Harry looked at Luci gratefully. She hadn't told anyone that he was leaving. Something oscillated inside of him, and he felt, all of the sudden, that he could trust her.

"Luci, you _knew_ about this?" Tonks asked in astonishment, catching Harry's glance.

Luci blushed. "I…"

"It's not her fault," interjected Harry. "I didn't tell her where I was going."

"It's not about that, Harry," Lupin said. "We were all worried sick about you!"

Tonks nodded. "Remus looked _everywhere_ for you! And poor Ginny! We could hardly get her onto the Hogwarts Express this morning!"

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, feeling especially bad about Ginny, even though he'd told her that he was planning to leave.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Luci?" Mrs. Weasley asked her.

Luci glimpsed at Harry, who gave her an apologetic look. "Harry's of age… and so am I, for that matter."

Mrs. Weasley scoffed. "Hardly!"

Luci looked at her insolently.

"This is inexcusable, Miss Keegan. Harry's life was at risk," said Mad-Eye.

Luci's face had gone crimson, which was a drastic contrast to her usually very pale skin.

"I'm sorry," she replied meekly.

Harry felt guilt boiling in the pit of his stomach like hot acid.

"It's really not her fault," he said again.

Mrs. Weasley frowned disapprovingly. "It was her responsibility to inform us of anything that could harm you, including the fact that you were planning to run off by yourself to who knows where!"

Luci was still hanging her head in shame, causing anger to swell in Harry's mind.

"I'm not a kid anymore!" he blurted. "And you can't take this out on Luci!"

He gasped in shock at his own words, and so did Mrs. Weasley. "Harry, I never…"

"Sorry," he choked. "Look. It's no one's job to protect me anymore. I've faced Voldemort plenty of times and been fine, and I'll do it again. _This_ was no big deal!"

Everyone fell into silence at this declaration.

At last, Luci stood, and then hurried from the room.

Slowly, the others began to follow her out, until only Mrs. Weasley remained.

She let go of Harry's hand and got to her feet. "We all love you very much, Harry. I just wish you'd be more careful. You know you're like one of my own. And once you're rested, I expect you to explain where you've been and what the devil happened to your poor hand!"

Remorse continued to rumble through Harry's insides.

Mrs. Weasley bent down and kissed his forehead, saying softly in his ear, "Don't get too attached to Luci."

Harry gave her a curious look as she straightened up, but she just smiled and left the room.

Waiting a few moments to make sure that she was gone, Harry leapt out of bed and went to his clothes, which had been laundered and folded on Ron's bed. He fumbled in his pocket for the golden wings. They were gone.

* * *

That evening, Mrs. Weasley brought Harry's dinner upstairs to him. She had refused to let him leave his bed.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked, as she was putting his dinner into his lap.

"Yes, dear?"

"Moody found me in the entryway?"

She looked at him curiously. "Yes… why?"

"Is he still here?"

"Why do you want to see him?"

"I need to ask him something," said Harry vaguely.

Mrs. Weasley looked suspicious, but she agreed to send Mad-Eye up to the room.

Harry was just finishing his sandwich when the door flung open.

"Looking for this?" growled Mad-Eye, holding out the pair of golden wings, which were now perfectly immobile and didn't seem to injure Mad-Eye's skin at all.

Harry's eyes widened.

"Hard to miss. Fluttering around in your pocket like a mad bat."

Harry gulped. "Does anyone else know about it?"

Mad-Eye shut the door behind him. "No." He paused. "Do _you_ know what it is?"

"No, sir."

This was true. Harry had no idea what the wings were, but he hoped…

Mad-Eye grunted. "This is very dark magic, Potter."

Harry's chest filled with optimism, but he feigned a confused expression.

"Why was it in your possession?"

He had no idea how to respond to this question without getting himself into a whole other mess of trouble, so instead, he stuttered, "I… I just found it. What should I do with it now?"

"I will take care of it," snapped Mad-Eye.

Harry wanted to feel relief, but he needed confirmation…

"And _where_ did you find it?" Mad-Eye demanded gruffly.

Harry looked uncertainly at the man. He wasn't getting out of this without giving up a few answers.

"I found it at Voldemort's orphanage," said Harry, hoping that he wouldn't have to admit that he was actually out hunting for Horcruxes.

"And what were you doing _there_?" Mad-Eye frowned.

"I thought going there might give me some insight on him." This was also the truth, however simplified and slightly shrouded.

Mad-Eye looked doubtfully at Harry. "What do you know about Horcruxes, Potter?"

"Nothing."

This time, Harry had lied, but he was so excited that he didn't much care. One down. Three to go.

Mad-Eye narrowed his eyes but remained silent.

So Harry asked, "What _is_ that anyway?" He gestured towards the wings, as he didn't want to seem at all interested in Horcruxes.

Mad-Eye grunted again, as if he knew that Harry was withholding information, and therefore, he wanted to do the same. But he said, "Belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. Stolen from the Hogwarts trophy room in 1943." He turned the wings over in his hand, examining them. "Very magical item, these wings…"

Of course! Ravenclaw's heirloom!

Then Mad-Eye looked up at Harry again and said, "Is this how you sustained that burn?" while nodding towards Harry's bandaged right hand.

Harry averted his eyes. "Why don't they burn you?"

Mad-Eye gave Harry a significant look. "_I'm_ not The Boy Who Lived."

Harry had just opened his mouth to ask what this meant when Mrs. Weasley bustled back into the room to take Harry's dishes.

With a small smile, Mad-Eye said, "I'll make sure that this is returned to its proper place," and exited the room, leaving Harry with innumerable questions and a desperate need to know what Mad-Eye was going to do with that Horcrux.

* * *

The next morning, after Mrs. Weasley had insisted that Harry have breakfast in bed, he had gone to visit the bathroom. As he was drowsily heading back to his room, he was feeling very dejected at the recurring thoughts of his mother and Snape.

At the end of the hall, he encountered Luci and Malfoy, who seemed to be arguing about something.

Going instantly silent at the sight of him, Luci gave Harry a concerned look. "Are you OK, Harry?"

"Fine," he said flatly, trying to wipe the melancholy from his expression.

Luci turned to Malfoy. "Go ahead and start without me. I'll be right there."

Malfoy looked disappointed about whatever he was supposed to start on his own. He gave Harry a spiteful jeer, ostensibly just for good measure, and went to his room.

As soon as Malfoy was out of earshot, Luci turned to Harry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're lying to me," she said, as if this deeply wounded her.

Harry just looked at her. He was under no obligation to tell her anything. Perhaps she'd gotten the wrong impression and somehow thought that they were friends.

She was still studying his face.

"If you won't tell me, you should at least tell _someone_," she said.

He shrugged.

"Remus?" she suggested.

Of course! Lupin knew both his mother _and_ Snape! He would have some answers!

Harry's delight must have been evident in his eyes, because Luci grinned at him and turned back towards Malfoy's room without another word.

"Wait," he said, abruptly.

She turned to face him again, but she came closer this time, so close that it made Harry dizzy. There was that sugary scent again…

He took a breath, and it tickled the back of his throat. "I'm sorry that I got you into trouble."

She smiled softly. "Don't worry about it."

Luci seemed unruffled at the moment, but Harry had seen that she'd been totally humiliated when Mad-Eye and Mrs. Weasley had berated her over Harry's disappearance. Where had this confidence been then? He suddenly got the unpleasant feeling that she was very good at hiding.

Harry frowned at her. "They seemed pretty mad at you."

"They'll get over it," she replied. "And they don't have any authority over me, so I'm not bothered by it, and you shouldn't be either."

Harry kept forgetting that she was of the same rank as the rest of the Order.

He cleared his throat. "Well, thank you for not telling anyone that I was leaving."

Luci touched his arm delicately and responded, "Wouldn't of dreamt of it." Then, she walked away from him, down the hall, and into Malfoy's room, where she shut the door.

Harry's skin burned where her touch lingered. She was much too assuming. And it was preposterous that he was reacting this way. He chalked it up to being nervous around dodgy strangers, and went downstairs to find Lupin.

He was in the kitchen with Tonks. They were going over something on the table in the middle of the room.

When Lupin noticed Harry's arrival, he swiftly muttered, "_Evanesco_," and whatever was on the table disappeared.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked.

"I bounce back pretty quickly these days," replied Harry.

Lupin smiled thoughtfully. Tonks giggled.

"Something we can do for you?" she asked warmly.

Harry hesitated, glancing up at Lupin.

"Loud and clear!" Tonks chimed, and she hurried from the room.

"Sorry," mumbled Harry.

"She understands," Lupin replied. "What's the problem?"

"I wanted to ask you…" Harry trailed off. "About my mum, actually."

Lupin released a resolved sigh. "Have a seat, Harry."

Harry sat down upon the long wooden bench and Lupin seated himself opposite.

"You see, Professor, I…"

"Harry, don't you think it's time you called me by my first name?"

Taken aback, Harry nodded, but he didn't think that it was time for that at all.

"I went to Godric's Hollow," he said instead. He figured he might as well just say it. "That's where I was."

Lupin looked startled by this information, but he was silent.

"I didn't find much, if that's what you're thinking," Harry went on.

Lupin gave him a patient nod.

"But I did find… letters…"

"Letters?"

Harry nodded. "From Snape to my mum."

Lupin took a shallow breath but didn't seem surprised.

Harry went on, "I think they were… _love_ letters. I mean, I only had _his_ letters to _her_, so I don't know what she was writing back, but they seemed pretty friendly."

Lupin nodded, and then began carefully, "They were friendly, yes. Severus tutored your mum in potions in our fourth year – that's how she got so good – and they kept in touch over that summer. Severus was madly in love with Lily, and I think that she felt fondly for him too, but during that year at Hogwarts, he was terrible to her, and I don't think that she ever forgave him. In our seventh year, she began going out with James. Severus was furious, of course, but he'd done it to himself."

Harry was gaping at this point.

"No wonder Snape hates my dad!"

Lupin shrugged. "That wasn't even the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"Severus hated James because Lily loved him, but even before that, in our sixth year, something else occurred that made him hate James infinitely more."

"What happened?"

Lupin took a deep breath. "Your dad saved Severus's life."

Then Harry remembered something. "Yeah, Professor Dumbledore mentioned that."

Lupin nodded. "Yes, Sirius had tricked Severus into going after me in the Whomping Willow during the full moon, but James stopped him."

Harry nodded. He'd heard this story and knew that Snape owed his father a life debt.

But all of this still hadn't absolved the sickened feeling that had knotted itself in Harry's stomach.

He looked up at Lupin, dreading the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it anyway.

"Did my mum… _love_ Snape?"

To Harry's surprise, Lupin smiled, then replied, "Is that impossible to believe?"

Harry shook his head, though he thought he might throw up.

"Your mother was very compassionate, and she saw whatever good there was in Severus. Obviously, none of that good remains, but it must have been there."

Harry swallowed hard, forcing down the revulsion.

"So she loved him?"

Lupin shook his head. "Only your mother knows the answer to that question, Harry."

"But you _think_ that she did?"

_Please say no_, Harry thought.

Lupin gave him a scrutinizing look. "Do I think that she felt about him the same way that she felt about your father? No, I don't. Do I think that she felt _something_ for him? Yes. But she _loved_ James. Whatever had happened in the past didn't take away from how very much she _did_ love him. And you."

Harry met Lupin's gaze.

"Your mother didn't betray your father, Harry."

Harry frowned. "Then why did she keep all of Snape's letters hidden in a box that was parading as a book?"

Lupin narrowed his eyes in thought, and then said, "Your mother was very sentimental. That's all it was. I'm sure of it."

But Harry thought that he didn't sound very sure at all.

"So my dad knew that she'd had feelings for Snape?"

Lupin laughed, disrupting Harry's somber mood.

"James never let her forget it, in fact. He was always teasing her about it. She humored him, but she never said anything negative about Severus, not once. She did, however, eventually cease to defend him."

"So maybe she realized that there was no good left in him?" Harry asked hopefully.

Lupin shrugged. "Perhaps."

He looked considerately at Harry for a few moments.

At last, he said, "Do you feel any better?"

Harry nodded. But, in truth, it troubled him deeply that Snape was a good part of the reason that his mother had died, yet, he'd claimed to love her, and she had been nothing but wonderful, in turn, to him. Harry was no longer curious and confused; now, he was upset and angry.


	8. Chapter Eight: Midnight Duels

**Chapter Eight – Midnight Duels**

Harry spent the next few days in a bit of a trance. He was struggling with all of the feelings that rippled through him. Mrs. Weasley was insisting that he spend most of his time in bed, but Harry was starting to become very restless. He needed to leave again, but he wasn't sure where to go next. Nevertheless, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing. He missed Ron and Hermione immensely and fairly often found himself wishing that he were with them at Hogwarts. There was so much to tell them when he _did_ see them again. He knew that they were expecting an owl from him, so he'd scribbled a quick letter explaining that he was resting at Grimmauld Place and would be in contact soon. Hedwig had yet to bring a response.

Nightmares continued to afflict Harry, but now, not only did he dream about Dumbledore's death, but he relived the experience of his parents' murders, as well. Each night, he would struggle to put the day away, to clear his mind, to empty the questions and the dreadful, cyclic feelings. However, each night, it was in vain, for the visions never failed to return. Harry was grateful for the arrival of every single morning.

Members of the Order were frequently coming and going from the house. Harry hadn't seen Mad-Eye Moody since the day he'd taken the Horcrux, but he was greatly curious to know what had become of it. He needed proof that it had, indeed, been destroyed, before he could truly move on to the next one. He should have never let Moody take it, but the Auror had been very mistrustful of the circumstances, and Harry couldn't afford to explain them to him.

He was starting to get used to Luci, no longer feeling wary around her, but now feeling quite curious about her. She was bright and expressive, and she _did_ seem to cheer up Malfoy, who was, possibly, the dreariest person Harry had ever known, if you didn't count Snape.

Luci did have a terrible habit, however, of frequently criticizing herself, which Harry found a bit disconcerting. She would do it in subtle, self-deprecating ways, and she would always cover it with a joke. No one else seemed to notice this, but it irritated Harry, for reasons he was unable to determine. He had a gnawing suspicion that she was truly herself very seldom and poured a great deal of effort into shutting out anyone who might want to get to know her. She was often locked away with Malfoy in his room, which gave Harry a very disagreeable feeling, but which also kept him from spending much time with her and stole any hope of him truly getting past her barricades.

One evening, well into the month of September, Harry admitted to himself that he'd been procrastinating about leaving Grimmauld Place, and that this was a luxury that he could no longer afford, unless he was doing something productive with his time here. In fact, he was starting to feel much like he imagined Sirius had felt when he was cooped up in this uninspiring place – bored, dispirited, like he hadn't seen sunlight in ages. But he had been letting his self-doubt dissuade him from leaving. Sometimes, Harry felt as if he could defeat Voldemort easily, driven solely by rage. Other times, he was mired in such all-consuming insecurity that he wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and never come out again. Sure, he had taught his classmates advanced defensive spells, but how much did he _really_ know? Most of his escapes from danger had been only by the skin of his teeth and they had all involved some assistance from someone or something.

But now, Dumbledore was dead. He had always been there to see Harry through, but Harry was now left with no one to advise him or to protect him. He had no idea what tools he might need in order to fight a battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. All he knew was that he had to fight that battle and that he certainly didn't feel ready to face this looming truth on his own.

Harry was spending numerous nights alone in the drawing room, but on this particular occasion, Luci also wandered in, and the clock on the wall told him that it was almost one o'clock in the morning. He hadn't been prepared to see her, and his pulse began to quicken.

"Oh," she said, as she noticed him. "Sorry, I'll go…"

"No," he shook his head. "Up late again?"

The corners of her mouth turned up. "Look who's talking."

Luci came in and sat down across from him. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"You were right," he said.

"That's always nice to hear. What about?"

"I shouldn't have left here alone."

"You did what you thought you needed to do," she responded, after a thoughtful pause.

Harry shrugged.

"So you found what you were looking for?" she asked.

He glanced curiously at her.

She smiled and said teasingly, "It was just a _guess_. I don't know any of your secrets."

Harry must have looked relieved, because her expression altered and she said, "You really don't trust me at _all_, do you?"

"Well, you can't blame me," replied Harry, but he immediately regretted it. Had he no control over his mouth anymore? Good grief!

Bemused, Luci retorted, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Harry knew that he was blushing furiously, unable to decide how the conversation had escalated so suddenly, but he threw caution to the wind. "You spend a lot of time with Malfoy, that's all. Bolted up in his room. It's a bit dodgy, you have to admit. What are you up to, anyway?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her voice conveyed annoyance, but mostly hurt, when she answered, "What I do with Draco is none of your business."

"This is _my_ house," growled Harry.

She narrowed her eyes. "You keep saying that, Harry. Do you want us to leave?"

"I want _him_ to leave."

"Where Draco goes, I go."

This statement hit Harry like a sack of bricks.

"_What? Why?_"

Luci looked as if she wished she could take it back. She seemed to be struggling to find an answer.

"What _are_ you doing with him? Is there something going on with you two?" Harry asked, accusingly.

"Oh. Wow. Absolutely not." Luci's voice was quiet and she was visibly stunned.

After a moment, she seemed to have composed herself and replied steadily, "Not that it's _your_ concern, but I'm helping him to prepare for his N.E.W.T.s. Minerva said that, under the circumstances, if he took them and passed, he wouldn't have to repeat his seventh year. We're not doing anything _dodgy_, as you put it."

Regret unexpectedly swept over Harry, followed by an equally unexpected wave of relief.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just… You acted like you had something to hide. I was just…" He swallowed and said again, "I'm sorry."

Luci stood and said moodily, "I'm not _hiding_ anything. I'm a private person, that's all. And now, I'm going back to bed. I'm sorry I came down here in the first place."

"Luci," he started, standing too.

When she gazed up into his eyes, he could see that he had deeply upset her.

Harry looked away and focused, instead, on the floor.

"You have to understand, I _hate_ Malfoy. He's always up to something, and you're just… always with him…"

"We're going in circles here," said Luci. "I told you what we were doing. You don't trust me. That's fine."

"I _do_ trust you," he responded weakly, though he didn't know how true it was. It came and went.

She sighed heavily. "I just… really can't believe that right now."

"What do you want? _Proof_?" exclaimed Harry.

"I don't want anything from you! Your trust issues are _your_ problem, and to be honest, they're understandable, considering your past, so like I said, it's fine." But her tone didn't sound like things were fine at all.

Harry realized that she must know pretty much everything about him. He suddenly felt very exposed. Somehow, though, the feeling didn't bother him.

"Duel with me," he said abruptly.

Luci shook her head in confusion. "_What_?"

"I'll prove to you that I trust you. Ron, Hermione, and I always perform defensive spells on each other. Now that they're gone, I need the practice. And it'll help with the boredom."

She was looking hesitantly at him, studying his face, as if she thought he was joking.

"Seriously?"

He nodded.

Luci sighed again. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

He could tell that she meant it, but the idea of practicing defense with her was actually quite exciting to him. She was an Auror, and she could teach him all sorts of things! If she'd forgive him, that is.

"I want to," he replied.

"Well, I don't see how dueling builds trust," she said crossly.

"It _does_; believe me! When you're vulnerable to someone…" He stopped, because the sentence itself had made him feel very vulnerable indeed. "Well, if nothing else, it'll be… fun," he finished.

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know how much help I can be to you, Harry. I may surpass you in knowledge, but you greatly surpass me in real experience, which is a far better teacher."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Knowledge is what I need."

"I'm exhausted," she said then, though he was sure this was a lie. "Tomorrow night, same place, same time?"

Harry smiled. "OK."

She nodded, and without saying good night to him, left the room.

* * *

The next evening, Harry arrived in the drawing room before Luci did. She had avoided him for most of the day, except when she'd asked him, very tartly, to pass the salt at lunch. He was sitting there, in the dark, still feeling rather remorseful about his accusations, when she waved her wand to turn on the light in the room.

With no proper greeting, she began coolly, "I've thought about it, and I've decided that I'm not a worthy opponent for you."

Harry frowned at her. "You know that isn't true. You're just still mad at me about last night."

"A little of both," replied Luci.

"Well, get over it," he said angrily. "I've apologized, and you're brilliant enough to become an Auror, so you can obviously duel circles around me."

After gaping at him for a moment, to Harry's surprise, she laughed.

He gave her a questioning look.

Still smiling, she said, "I love how you've just called me out, but you should know that I don't normally take criticism very well."

"Except from yourself." That had escaped his mouth without his consent. _Everything_ seemed to lately.

Luci tilted her head to one side. "Touché, Potter, touché."

Her mood had changed so suddenly that Harry really didn't know what to make of it. He stared incredulously at her. "Potter?"

"Harry," she corrected, "but it's a duel. Last names in a duel. _You_ should know; you call Draco 'Malfoy' all the time." She grinned. "So, where shall we begin?"

"I… uh…"

"Well, come on, Harry, this was your idea. You must have _some_ routine," she said cheerily.

Harry watched her, perplexed, and finally said, "We just… throw spells at one another…"

"OK, prepare to be owned," smiled Luci, raising her wand at him. "_Potter_," she added impishly.

"I… what? Owned?"

She laughed. "Sorry. I was just saying that I was going to crush you, but it's not _really_ true, of course."

Harry shook his head. "Whatever you say…"

He, too, put himself into the dueling position.

"_Expelliarmus_!" she said, before he was even ready.

"Hey, that wasn't fair!" he shouted.

"Oh," she smiled playfully, "I didn't know we were playing _fair_."

Harry grinned, retrieved his wand, and hit her with the Body-Bind curse before she could block it.

After he'd lifted the spell, the pair of them spent hours into the early morning, dueling and laughing. Harry hadn't had that much fun in so long that he couldn't even remember.

* * *

The next day, Mad-Eye Moody finally returned to Grimmauld Place. His right arm was bandaged all the way up to his elbow, and he was more silent than usual. No one even bothered to inquire about this new injury, but Harry certainly intended to ask.

After lunch that afternoon, he managed to corner Mad-Eye as he was, once again, leaving the house. The entryway was narrow, and Harry was able to move past the Auror and step in front of the large oak door, blocking the way out.

"What happened?" began Harry, gesturing towards the bandages.

Mad-Eye grunted crossly and then replied in a hushed voice, "That's thanks to your Horcrux."

"How did it do _that_ to you?" Harry continued, feigning ignorance.

The aged wizard frowned. "Very dark magic, Potter. That's all you need to know."

"Where are the wings now?"

"Back where they belong, as I said before."

"Professor," stammered Harry.

Mad-Eye gazed searchingly at him.

"That's _not_ all I need to know…"

"I have a feeling you know more about these things than you let on, and if that's the case, you _do_ know more than you need to know. Now, you can rest assured that I've taken care of it."

Harry _had_ to ask. "So the wings are no longer a Horcrux?"

Mad-Eye gave him an appraising look, and, seeming as if he wanted to say more, simply stated, "No," and made his way past Harry and out the front door, leaving him standing in the entryway with his blissful relief.

On his way back up to his room, Harry encountered Luci on the landing. They didn't look at one another, but when she passed him, she whispered, "See you tonight?"

He grinned, his insides shimmying. "Yeah."

She continued down the landing and into Malfoy's room.

Hedwig was waiting patiently for him, perched inside of her cage, which sat near the window. She had a piece of parchment tied to her leg. Harry rustled her feathers affectionately and then relieved her of the letter. He unrolled it and found a short note from Ron.

"_Harry,_

_Glad to hear you're all right. Things are OK here. Two new teachers – Arnaud Finnister is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and Clares Todge is teaching Transfiguration. Neither of them is very interesting, and Hermione wants me to tell you that you could teach Defense much better._

_I got Quidditch Captain! Brilliant, eh? Can't hardly replace you, but it's cool, anyway. Hermione is having far too much fun being Head Girl. Being Head Boy is OK._

_Hagrid is Head of Gryffindor now! We talked to him and got the answer. We'll tell you when we see you. Be sure to stay in touch._

_Ron_

_P.S. Keep a look-out for House Elves."_

"House Elves?" Harry said aloud to himself.

An aching had filled his chest. He folded the letter and tossed it into his trunk. He missed Ron and Hermione, and he missed Hogwarts, and he missed Quidditch. Harry wasn't one to feel sorry for himself, but no one could deny that life had never been very fair to him.


	9. Chapter Nine: Dobby Helps

**Chapter Nine – Dobby Helps**

Harry and Luci spent the next fortnight meeting in the drawing room late each evening. The time had been flying by, and it was now early October. Harry knew that he needed to continue his search for the Horcruxes, but he was really having a splendid time with Luci. He'd totally forgotten the feelings of being stuck in a dismal, sunless place. By day, they were pretending not to notice one another, so as not to alert anyone to what they'd been up to, but by night, she'd been teaching him a few new things. For instance, there was a spell that blinded your enemies, which they obviously didn't practice on each other. She cautioned that he should only use this one in extreme situations, because it was almost never reversible. There was also an interesting enchantment that reminded Harry of the Bubble-Head charm, except that it enwrapped your entire body in a protective shield. It was nearly impossible to conjure, however, and Harry wasn't even close to succeeding.

This evening, Luci greeted him merrily with, "OK, I've got one you surely haven't learned!"

He turned to see her in the doorway of the drawing room and felt that swooping sensation in his stomach. "Oh, yeah?"

"It's the Traitor Hex," she answered, entering the room.

"Traitor Hex?" Harry repeated.

"It temporarily turns a person against their allies. Very helpful in any kind of battle situation."

He grinned. "Brilliant!"

"Yes," she agreed.

"We could get Death Eaters like Snape and Bellatrix on our side!" Harry realized excitedly.

"No!" snapped Luci.

Harry gaped at her in surprise.

She cleared her throat. "It won't work on Snape."

Harry looked at her skeptically. "How do you even know who Snape _is_?" He tried to remember whether or not he'd mentioned his old Potions teacher to her. He was fairly certain that he hadn't.

A fleeting look of panic flashed in Luci's eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly, and she said unperturbedly, "_Everyone_ knows Severus Snape, and it won't work on him."

He thought her answer was a bit suspicious, but instead of probing further, Harry asked, "Why not?"

"He's much too talented."

"So it only works on weak wizards?"

"Not necessarily. But it won't work on Snape, and certainly not on Voldemort," she replied. "And besides that, it's _temporary_ – only lasts for several minutes, depending on the person."

Harry was very displeased with this.

"Well, let's see it anyway," he sighed in disappointment.

She looked contemplative. "I don't know how you could practice it…"

"I could try it on Malfoy," Harry suggested.

Luci gave a short laugh, but then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Not funny," she said from between her fingers, but he could tell that she was smiling.

Composing herself, she flicked her wand and, at their feet, there appeared four mice, two brown and two white.

"_Addo Ferito_," she said, and the two brown mice began to bite and scratch at the white pair.

"All right, Harry, the incantation for the Traitor Hex is _Abeo Proditio_. Give it a try."

Harry brandished his wand. He'd finally been able to remove the bandages from his right hand, which had now healed, thanks to a salve that Mrs. Weasley had been applying daily. Each time, she'd demanded an explanation for the burn, but he'd always refused to tell her.

He said clearly, "_Abeo Proditio_."

He watched the mice, but nothing had changed. They were still sparring, two on two.

"Here," Luci said, "it's more of a wave, like this." She demonstrated the motion with her wand.

Harry mimicked her, saying again, "_Abeo Proditio_."

One of the white rats began to try to bathe its partner.

Harry blushed, but Luci smiled.

"Keep trying," she encouraged.

And Harry did. He made five more attempts, each try resulting in odd conduct from the mice, but never the desired behavior, though he seemed to get closer with every go he had at it.

After a long period of time and the ninth failure, he sighed in frustration. He was feeling very self-conscious, with Luci watching him, and with his inability to get this right.

"Why don't we try this again later?" proposed Luci.

Then, at her murmur of "_Evanesco_," the mice vanished as instantly as they had appeared.

"Stupid mice," muttered Harry.

She laughed. "It's a tough one, but I have no doubt that you'll get it. You're really quite gifted."

He stared at her for a moment. His cheeks were burning. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"OK," she began, "so try the bubble shield on me again. You've almost got it. Just remember not to actually envision bubbles when you do it."

Last night, he'd tried it on her for the first time, and she'd blown up like a balloon, after which she'd floated around the room, giggling at him, until she had finally decided to fix the problem.

"I'd rather not," he said, hesitantly.

"I want you to try it on me before you try it on yourself. It's safer that way."

Harry frowned.

"Come on," Luci encouraged, giving him a welcoming gesture.

Slowly pointing his wand at her, he said firmly, "_Clypeus_."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Luci opened her mouth and bubbles began pouring out of it.

Harry gasped in horror.

But Luci was doubled over with laughter again, which, in turn, was filling the room with incandescent suds that floated towards the ceiling.

"I'm sorry!" he moaned.

She was shaking her head at him and just continued to laugh.

After a few moments, she positioned her wand towards herself and said something, causing more bubbles to erupt. Then, without another word, and to Harry's puzzlement, she laid down on the floor, her long blonde hair spread out beneath her head like a halo, her arms at her sides. She was watching the bubbles hovering above them, but she was still giggling at him. Harry was mortified.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, very easily solved," said Luci, smiling. "And so pretty too. Kind of enchanting, isn't it?"

Nothing emerged from her mouth, so she must have righted the problem.

Harry, relieved, lowered himself onto the floor beside her and looked up at the ceiling of suspended spheres that reflected the colors in the room. "I don't know about _enchanting_," he commented.

"Well, _I_ think so," she said softly. "Maybe it's a girl thing."

He smiled. She was so close that he could smell her – that sugary aroma, as if he'd just walked into a sweet shop. He inhaled indulgently, feeling all of his walls come tumbling down around him. He wasn't quite sure if he'd proven to Luci that he trusted her, but he'd certainly proven it to himself.

The pair of them remained there for a while, silent, on the drawing room floor. Harry felt his body relax as he listened to Luci's soft breathing. Eventually, he gave in to his intuition.

"Luci?"

"Hmm?" she answered lazily.

He took a deep breath. "Do you know anything about Horcruxes?"

Luci bolted upright, spluttering, "Wh…?"

A residual bubble popped from her mouth. They both ignored it.

Harry sat up too.

She was gawking at him. "Why would you ask me that?"

They stared at each other for a few moments. Her wintergreen eyes were piercing.

Then, she said, "_That's_ your secret? You're making Horcruxes?"

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "No, that's not it at _all_!"

Luci shook her head, baffled.

Harry figured he might as well just tell her straight. "_Voldemort_ made six of them. Three have been destroyed and I have to find the others."

Luci's eyes had grown increasingly wider with every word from Harry's mouth. "Tell me you're kidding."

He shook his head.

She gazed at him as she turned this information over in her mind.

"Harry…" she began cautiously. "Do you have _any_ idea…?"

"I know," he interrupted, "it's dangerous. But I have to do it."

Luci was looking contemplative. "Yes, of course, you do," she said, almost to herself. "If you want to defeat Voldemort, you have to get to the Horcruxes first…"

Harry felt a glimmer of hope. "So you _do_ know about them?"

"A little, yeah..." she said, still frowning and staring at the floor in thought.

Harry knew that he wouldn't have a better opportunity than to ask an Auror for help.

"How do I destroy them?"

Luci looked up at him. "Assuming you can find them?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "God, they're all different. It would depend on _so_ many things."

"Like what?"

She began chewing thoughtfully on her right thumbnail. Harry found himself thinking that this was tremendously endearing.

"Well, I assume that Voldemort's Horcruxes'll be particularly difficult to destroy… No, _that_ probably wouldn't work, at least not on its own…"

She was mumbling to herself at this point, and Harry watched her patiently. Finally, she looked up at him and sighed, "I'm sorry; I wouldn't know unless I could see it. And then, I probably _still_ wouldn't know."

"Isn't there anything?" asked Harry desperately.

Luci smiled softly. "I don't have all of the answers, Harry."

Disappointed, he inquired, "Well, can you at least tell me how to know when I've found one?"

She pondered the question. "Um… I don't know… I've only read about them, but, from what I understand, it's such dark magic that you can almost feel it in your gut when you're near one."

Harry sighed. "That's what Hermione said, but I've never felt anything."

Luci looked incredulously at him. "You've been in contact with Horcruxes before?"

He nodded. "Two of them. In my second year, there was this diary. Ginny got her hands on it, somehow. We think it was Lucius Malfoy, but anyway, it ended up being Tom Riddle's old diary, from when he was at Hogwarts, and he was able to control Ginny with it. She released his basilisk and then he kidnapped her, and we had to go down there and save her."

Luci eyes were wide and he took a deep breath, going on, "It's a long story. But I destroyed the diary, and Dumbledore told me last year that it had been a Horcrux. But I was around it loads of times and I never felt anything."

"And the second?"

"Remember when I came back with that burn on my hand?" he asked.

Luci bobbed her head.

"I'd found one. I don't even really know how – it was at Voldemort's orphanage – but it was this set of wings, and I had to chase it. And when I finally caught it, it burned me. I couldn't let go, so it was pretty bad, I guess. But I didn't feel anything until I touched it. There was nothing warning me or anything."

She appeared thoughtful. "Maybe you have to be trained to know them…"

He gave her a moment to say more, but when she didn't, he continued, "There was one other that's been destroyed, but I was never actually physically around it. It was a ring that I saw in a Pensieve. So maybe I wouldn't have felt anything because it was someone else's memory. All I know is that I can't tell them apart from anything else unless I can get my hands on them. So I don't really know where to start."

Luci gawked at him for a long moment and then breathed, "Wow, I'm… totally blown away…"

He was discomfited to see that she was gazing admirably at him.

"You really are something, aren't you?"

Harry shook his head. Heat was slithering up his neck and spreading over his face. He averted his eyes.

"Yes, you _are_," said Luci, "and now you're going to continue risking your life to find the remaining Horcruxes?"

"I have no choice," replied Harry quietly.

"Of course, you do," she countered solicitously. "We _always_ have choices. _Your _choice is to follow a difficult and dangerous path for the greater good. That's… astonishing."

He shrugged, very much wanting to change the subject.

"I don't mean to embarrass you," said Luci gently. "I'm just in awe of you sometimes."

Now, he was definitely going to change the subject.

"You'll keep this between us, won't you?" It was a little late to ask that question, and he knew it.

She smiled faintly. "I thought dueling together was going to help you to trust me?"

"It has. That's why I've just told you all of this."

She took a breath. "It's a lot."

"Yeah."

"You _can_ trust me, Harry."

He gave her a weary smile. Glancing up, he noticed that most of the bubbles had now disappeared.

Luci observed this too, along with Harry's fatigue, and said, "I'll clean this up. Why don't you go to bed?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you need to start thinking about leaving here again."

Harry sighed. "I know."

Luci sounded troubled as she said, "We've been wasting precious time."

"I don't think it's been a waste of time at all," he responded.

She grinned, as if this greatly lifted her spirits. "Go to bed."

"Yeah, yeah, no need to get bossy," he smiled teasingly.

Her mouth fell open. "I didn't–"

Giving her a lighthearted gesture, Harry chuckled, "Kidding."

When he saw her features relax, he shook his head good-naturedly at her and headed for his room.

* * *

Harry had decided that he would spend one more evening here, and then he really had to go, though, where, he wasn't sure yet. All he knew was that he was dreading it.

That afternoon, he went to Luci's room to ask her if she'd spend one last night with him. He had a feeling that she'd protest, insisting again that she was a waste of his time, but he would ask anyway. He had just put his knuckles to the wood and was about to knock, when he realized that Luci was talking to someone.

He put an ear to the door.

"Everything's going fine," she was saying. "How are things on your end?"

Harry expected to hear a separate voice respond, but instead, there was only silence.

Then it was Luci's voice again. "So the Dark Lord is still buying it?"

_The Dark Lord?_ thought Harry, every nerve in his body tingling unpleasantly.

"He continues to be insolent and aggravating, but I think I have a handle on things," Luci carried on.

_Who_ was insolent and aggravating? Harry wished that he had those Extendable Ears right about now.

Then, Luci spoke again, "I know. I just want to keep him safe."

A brief pause.

"Harry? Harry is… well, he's quite amazing, actually. I had _no_ idea…"

Harry felt as if someone had turned him upside down, shaken him, and then set him upright again. He beamed deliriously.

"Oh, I don't think he's arrogant at all."

A pause.

"Well, it's a difference of opinion."

Another pause.

"No, I'm not _distracted_. I have everything under control. Why don't you worry about _your_ job and I'll worry about _mine_?"

Harry, who had been trying to get into a better position in which to eavesdrop, had hit the door with his foot.

He heard Luci whisper hastily, "I have to go!"

Harry fumbled in his pocket for the Invisibility Cloak, which he'd taken to carrying with him at all times, and threw it over his head. He pressed himself into the wall and held his breath, trying to remain as silent as possible.

Luci poked her head out of her door and looked up and down the hallway.

"Hmm," she said aloud. Then she closed the door again.

Harry exhaled in relief.

Who was Luci talking to, and how were they communicating?

He stripped off the Cloak, grateful to have had it with him, and started back downstairs. Luci would certainly notice that he hadn't left yet and would meet him in the drawing room, as usual. And then he would ask her about that strange conversation. He was sure that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

* * *

Harry was waving his wand at the two pairs of mice. He'd been trying the Traitor Hex for a while now, with Luci watching patiently from a chair behind him.

Finally, he noticed the mice beginning to fight with their partners instead of their opponents.

"I did it!" he bellowed.

"There you go!" Luci cheered from her seat. "Nice job. Bit more difficult on humans, of course, but I don't think you'll have a problem."

Suddenly, there was a loud CRACK.

Harry and Luci turned to see a pathetic little creature staring up at them.

"Dobby has a message from Miss Granger, sir, for Harry Potter, sir."

The elf handed a folded letter to Harry, who said, "Thanks, Dobby."

Dobby bowed low, his nose brushing against the floor.

"It is my honor and pleasure, Harry Potter, sir."

Harry unrolled the parchment to find a neatly written letter from Hermione.

"_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you're being watchful and taking care of yourself. Ron and I have continued the D.A. meetings. But a lot of people haven't returned to school or have finished, of course. Seamus's mother didn't let him return, and the Patil twins are gone, as well. So here is the new list. Lavender is still here, but she won't join us, for obvious reasons._

_Love from, Hermione_

_Hermione Granger_

_Ron Weasley_

_Ginny Weasley_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Luna Lovegood_

_Dean Thomas_

_Ernie Macmillan_

_Justin Finch-Fletchley_

_Dennis Creevey_

_Colin Creevey_"

It was still an impressive number. Harry was pleased that his friends were standing by him, and, not to mention, they were being remarkably courageous.

"Is it good news, sir?" Dobby asked Harry.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Thanks for bringing this."

Suddenly, Luci had jumped to her feet. "I'm sorry… _Dobby_, is it?"

The house elf looked at her cautiously, as her abrupt rise seemed to have startled him.

"What's that around your neck?" Luci asked.

Dobby took a step back, grasping the item protectively.

Luci moved slowly towards him. "I just want a peek…"

Dobby shook his head adamantly.

"Let her see it, Dobby," Harry interjected, curious to discover what had caught Luci's attention.

The elf's bottom lip quivered as he glanced up at Harry. Finally, he reluctantly pulled the trinket out from beneath his pillowcase tunic for them to see.

Harry gasped when he recognized it.

Luci looked at him questioningly. "Do you know what it is?"

He nodded.

"Really, really bad vibes coming from that thing… Dobby, I'd better take that."

"No!" cried Dobby, looking fiercer than Harry had ever seen him.

"Give it to me," Harry commanded.

Once again, the elf grudgingly obeyed, lifting the necklace slowly over his head and handing it to Harry, who let out a loud yelp when the locket met his skin. He dropped it onto the drawing room table.

"Are you OK?" Luci asked.

Harry nodded, looking down at the necklace and holding his injured hand to his chest. The heavy golden locket was the same one that he had seen in the Pensieve, with the serpentine "S" engraving.

"Dobby, where did you get this?" he asked the trembling creature.

"Dobby won it, Harry Potter, sir, fair and square."

Harry glanced questioningly at him. "You _won_ it?"

Dobby nodded. "From the nasty Kreacher, sir."

"Kreacher had this?"

The elf nodded again.

Harry stared again at the locket.

"Dobby has helped Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry nodded, not looking away from the necklace. "Yes, Dobby, you've helped me."

The house elf emitted a shrill note of joy and hopped about animatedly, seeming to have forgotten how precious this item had been to him just moments before. Then, with another cracking noise, he disappeared again.

When he was gone, Harry glanced up at Luci, who was also studying the locket.

"Is it a…?"

He nodded.

"Holy Horcruxes, Harry," she said.

He gave her a perplexed glance.

"It was a joke."

Harry frowned.

The smile slid from her face. "Not the time for jokes... OK…"

"What do I do with it?" he asked her.

Luci met his gaze. "You haven't told anyone else about this hunt of yours?"

Harry shook his head. "But Moody suspects."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Did it burn you when you touched it? Like the wings?"

He held out his hand for her to see. It was red and swollen where his skin had come into contact with the gold. He'd only just gotten this hand healed, and now it was burned again, though certainly not as severely.

She took his hand gently in hers, spreading his fingers, studying the burn. Harry unconsciously closed his eyes as blissful vibrations crawled up his arm.

"That'll heal in a few days," said Luci. Then, "You OK?"

His eyes flew open and he managed to croak, "Uh, huh," in response.

She removed her cardigan, and, picking up the locket, wrapped it tightly inside.

"It doesn't burn _you_?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "I think they burn you because of the connection you have to Voldemort. Horcruxes appear as nothing more than inanimate objects to anyone who doesn't know better."

"The diary never burned me," countered Harry.

Luci nodded. "Yes, but didn't Riddle _want_ you to read it? He would have removed any enchantments that might harm you, maybe?"

Handing him the sweater, she continued, "I think you know where to take this."

Harry shook his head in a lack of understanding.

"You haven't opened your birthday present?" she asked disbelievingly.

"What?"

She frowned. "The one that I gave you."

He'd totally forgotten about it.

"I… I forgot."

Luci's eyes were wide. "You… _forgot_?"

"Yeah, I just…"

"You've had a lot on your mind, I know. Never mind. You should open it."

"But I did!" replied Harry. "It's just a useless key!"

She gave him an exasperated glance. "Look in the _box_."

"OK…"

Luci nodded. "Look in the box, and you'll know what to do with the Horcrux."

Harry dashed from the room, with Luci on his heels. Soon, he was digging underneath his mattress for the small black box that he'd stashed there. Luci was watching him from the doorway.

He sat down upon his bed and opened the box. The scarlet key laid still and indescript inside. Harry removed it, placed it on the bed beside him, and started to take out the stuffing of its container. At the very bottom, he discovered a small piece of parchment, which he eagerly unfolded.

"_Dear Harry,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well and that you are continuing what we started together. The enclosed key will open the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts at your convenience. I hope that you will come and visit me._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore._"

Harry looked up at Luci, gaping.

"Where did you get this? Is this _really_ from…?"

She nodded.

"How did you…?"

Luci smiled. "Let's just say that I've had the pleasure of visiting Hogwarts."

Harry's head was filled with so many questions that he couldn't separate them in order to get them out through his mouth, so he just stuttered, "I… but I can't get into Hogwarts!"

"You were supposed to go with everyone else for the beginning of the term," said Luci.

"Right, but I _didn't_," replied Harry impatiently. "So how am I supposed to get in _now_?"

Luci looked at him hesitantly.

"Just tell me," he sighed.

She pursed her lips. "I have a Professor's Pass."

Harry knew that these were the medallions that the Hogwarts professors wore in order to come and go from the school grounds as they pleased, without being constrained by the castle's many protective enchantments.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, I needed to get this key for you, didn't I?" responded Luci surreptitiously.

He frowned at her. "You're hiding a lot of things from me, aren't you?"

She took a deep breath.

"Luci, I've told you _everything_," he grumbled resentfully.

"I know," she nodded. "But these are not entirely _my_ secrets to tell."

Anger was quickly flooding Harry's mind.

"Do I even know you at all?" he barked at her.

Luci stumbled into the doorframe, obviously startled by this outburst.

"Harry, you have to understand…" she faltered.

"_What_ do I have to understand? Your inability to tell me the truth?"

She stared at the floor. "There are just some things about me that I can't tell you, and if you can't handle that, then maybe we shouldn't be friends. But, yes, you know who I am. I've always been myself with you."

Then Harry remembered something.

"Who were you talking to in your room?"

Luci's expression had now changed to anger as well.

"Are you _spying_ on me?"

"No," he replied. "It was an accident."

She shook her head. "I can't _believe_ you."

"Who was it?"

Luci sighed in defeat. "Would it help if I told you that it doesn't affect you?"

"No, I want to know," said Harry stubbornly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you," she responded, but Harry thought that she'd nearly given him a straight answer.

He glared. "I'll need that pass. I'm leaving."

Luci looked into his eyes, and the anger was gone. Now, she looked almost… scared.

She whimpered, "Forgive me, Harry."

Her voice was so defenseless that he couldn't interrogate her anymore.

"I need to go," he sighed.

With a brisk nod, Luci went to her room to retrieve the medallion.


	10. Chapter Ten: How To Destroy A Horcrux

**Chapter Ten – How to Destroy A Horcrux**

Harry had Apparated to just outside the large wrought-iron gates that enclosed Hogwarts. Covered with the Invisibility Cloak, he took a look around. It was the dead of night, and everything was tranquil and stifling.

The autumn chill was moving in, and he clutched the cardigan to his chest, careful to keep the locket covered. He was still infuriated at her, even with her cotton candy aroma bombarding his senses. He hissed angrily. Why couldn't she just be honest with him? He'd been entirely honest with _her_.

The stone columns of the gates rose up in front of Harry, topped with their winged boars. He put a hand to the gate and pushed. It opened easily. He looked down gratefully at the medallion around his neck.

He began the long walk up the sloping drive that led to the castle. After awhile, the turrets and towers were drawing nearer, and he was able to see that there were very few lights on in the windows.

Soon, he reached the steps that led up to the giant oak front doors. He pulled them open quietly and stepped into the large entrance hall, where the torchlight glowed eerily over the marble staircase before him. He started up it, as silently as he could, and headed for the Headmaster's office, which was located in a tower by itself. He slid the Cloak from his body and stuffed it into his pocket as he went.

No sooner had he done this then, halfway up the landing, and to his immense dismay, he encountered Peeves.

"Potty!" shrieked the poltergeist.

"Shut _up_," Harry snarled.

"Where've you been, Potter, you rotter?"

"Leave me alone."

Peeves blew a raspberry. "Boring here without you, you know."

"I imagine," sighed Harry.

"But your two little friends haven't missed you," said the ghost conspiratorially.

Harry looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Peeves cackled loudly and did a somersault in the air.

"Oh, just go away," Harry groaned.

He cursed himself for having removed his Cloak and continued on his way.

Peeves sidled along beside him. "Nasty mood you're in, Potty."

"I _said_, sod off!"

The ghost hooted in amusement and floated off in the opposite direction. Harry could hear the horrible giggles growing fainter as he walked.

Finally, he reached the office, where the stone gargoyle stood just as he remembered it. He quickly searched it for some kind of keyhole, but found nothing.

Then, Harry heard a reproachful mewing.

He looked down to see Mrs. Norris, who gave him a suspicious glance, before trotting dutifully in the direction of Filch's office.

Harry had to get through the entrance, as quickly as possible, before Filch found him here. He took the key from his pocket and held it up to the gargoyle, searching for the lock. He ran it along the cold stone surface and, to his surprise, the mouth of the statue opened slowly, emitting a scarlet glow.

Harry forced the key into the mouth and turned it clockwise. The gargoyle leapt aside. He then retrieved the key again and watched the wall that had stood behind the statue split in two and reveal the familiar spiral staircase. Harry mounted it quickly and it began to rotate upwards as the entrance closed behind him. He exhaled in relief.

When he reached the oak door, bearing the griffin knocker, he heard voices coming from the room. He pressed his ear to the wood but couldn't make out any distinct words.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the large circular office. Someone had been in the fireplace, but the person disappeared at the sight of the new arrival.

"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore's portrait.

Harry's heart lurched in his chest at the sound of the voice that had always been such a comfort to him, the voice that he thought he'd never hear again. The fact that a remnant of a person lived on in his or her portrait had slipped his mind, even though he'd seen Dumbledore sleeping in his frame just after his death.

The portrait's face was illuminated by the candlelight in the room. Dumbledore looked rested, something that Harry had rarely seen in the wizard. Death had agreed with him. He was so happy to see that face and hear that voice that Harry was literally quivering with… What was it? Relief?

"Professor, I'm sorry it took me so long… I didn't find the letter until – "

Dumbledore's portrait waved a hand casually. "You are here now, and that's what matters." Then, gesturing towards the chair before the desk, he continued, "Sit down."

Harry propped his Firebolt up against the wall and parked himself in the chair. He found that he was pretending that Dumbledore had never died at all and that this was just another night of uncovering mysteries, with the Headmaster as his guide. His body relaxed in a way that it hadn't for a very long time. He looked around the room and noticed that all of the strange silver instruments had vanished, though the Sorting Hat still sat before him, on a shelf behind the desk.

"Minerva is in her quarters upstairs, so we must remember to keep our voices low," Dumbledore said, reminding Harry that the previous Headmaster was, indeed, dead after all.

"Sir, who was in the fire?" he asked.

Dumbledore's portrait smiled furtively, responding, "Never mind that. I understand that you have found another Horcrux?"

"Two more," Harry nodded.

"Oh?"

"Ravenclaw's wings, did Mad-Eye Moody bring them to you?"

Dumbledore continued to smile. "He took care of them himself, I believe, but I heard that they were returned to the case from which they'd been missing for decades, with no explanation. This means that you didn't keep the matter of the Horcruxes to yourself, Harry."

"He found the wings and knew what they were," Harry explained hastily. "I didn't tell him."

Dumbledore's portrait shook its head. "And you haven't told anyone else?"

Harry swallowed. Did Dumbledore know? Had she been back to the Headmaster's office to inform him? Did this count as a betrayal of Harry's confidence?

"I… I shouldn't have…" he faltered.

The old wizard smiled knowingly. "Do you like her?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir," replied Harry, who tried, in vain, to keep from blushing.

With a wink, Dumbledore said, "I thought you might."

Frowning, Harry asked, "Can I trust her?"

The portrait looked thoughtfully at Harry. "I trusted Severus, and you refused to join me in that, so would it be any different with _her_?"

"It _is_ different."

"How so?" asked Dumbledore.

"Snape is –"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"He's not a professor anymore," replied Harry angrily, and then he continued, "Snape is a _murderer_. You were wrong about him. Can't you admit that now?"

Dumbledore nodded curtly, and then asked, "What is the second?"

Harry, who was happy for the change of subject, however sudden, pushed back his temper. He placed the sweater on the table before him and unwrapped the locket.

Dumbledore watched silently, patiently. Then, upon seeing the necklace, he looked at Harry in confusion.

"This is the Horcrux that we retrieved from the cave, is it not?"

Harry shook his head. "No, the real Horcrux was taken by someone with the initials R.A.B. and replaced with a fake. For some reason, Kreacher had this and Dobby won it from him and… here it is."

"Regulus got there first then," said Dumbledore, almost to himself.

"Sirius's brother?" asked Harry in bewilderment. "Sirius's brother is R.A.B.?"

_Regulus Arcturus Black_, Harry's brain reminded him. He had seen the portrait in Sirius's old room at Grimmauld Place. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I would say so. It would explain why Kreacher would have such a valuable item. I think, perhaps, that you should visit the kitchens and speak with him."

"That's on the list," agreed Harry. "And the Chamber of Secrets."

"Best to take Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger along," suggested Dumbledore.

Harry nodded.

"Now, about _this_," the portrait gestured. "You cannot touch it?"

"No. They've both burned me."

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Ah." He looked contemplatively at the locket for a long while. Finally, he said, "I suppose it's best to try some revealing spells first. There will be a vast amount of dark magic protecting this item, and we don't want your hand to end up like mine." He held up his charred limb, grinning.

Harry, who didn't find Dumbledore's shriveled hand the least bit amusing, brandished his wand readily.

"Now, I want you to perform the spell and then step back as quickly as you can," instructed Dumbledore's portrait. "We cannot be sure what protection the locket may hold."

Harry nodded obediently, saying, "_Aperio_," and flinging his body abruptly backwards.

The locket lit itself on fire, quickly burning through the cardigan.

"_Aguamenti_," said Harry quickly, putting out the flames. "Well, that wasn't so bad."

Dumbledore clicked his tongue musingly. "I'm afraid that is only the beginning."

"How do we _remove_ the spells so that we can destroy it?" Harry inquired.

"It is a complicated process… but it is necessary in order to protect you when you perform the final destructive spell. First, we must determine every curse that protects it. Then we must remove each of them, one by one."

Harry sighed. "Fantastic."

"All is not lost," smiled Dumbledore. "It is merely a time-consuming procedure."

Nodding, Harry repeated, "_Aperio_," unenthusiastically.

A black cloud emerged from the locket, which remained sealed despite this, and quickly began to fill the room.

"_Clypeus_," chanted Harry instinctively, pointing his wand at himself. Miraculously, a large bubble enclosed around his body. The black smoke was everywhere now, swirling about outside of his shield. Harry watched it, wondering how he was going to get rid of it, and what it was doing to everything around him. Before he'd had to come up with something, however, the fumes were sucked back into the locket, as if it were a vacuum.

Harry removed the Clypeus charm, asking the portrait, "What _was_ that?"

"Poisonous gas, I'm sure," replied Dumbledore. "I see you've learned some new tricks."

Harry nodded but did not elaborate.

"Let's continue."

Harry executed the revealing spell again. Oddly, the locket burst into flames once more. He doused the fire and looked questioningly at Dumbledore's portrait.

"Curious," said the Wizard, eyeing the necklace skeptically.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It wouldn't repeat a curse it had already divulged. It would go through the lot and then begin again."

Harry frowned. "So there are only two curses on it?"

"It would seem so," replied Dumbledore quietly, "which would mean that Regulus removed the others but was unable to complete the cleansing."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry, encouraged.

"I suppose we can begin the removal process," agreed Dumbledore, after a few moments of deliberation. "The incantation for this would be _Purgatio_, followed by the name of the curse - for the flames, _Incendio_, and for the poison, _Toxicem_.

Harry raised his wand, beginning with, "_Purgatio Incendio_."

All of a sudden, he was flung powerfully into the wall behind him. This knocked the breath out of him and caused him to black out for a brief spell. Getting slowly to his feet, Harry groaned.

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore said to himself, running a hand thoughtfully along the length of his beard.

Harry was still heaving for air.

The portrait shook its head. "It _did_ seem too easy…"

"Professor," breathed Harry, "what now?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. It would appear that there are curses that we cannot eradicate. Yet, if you were to try to destroy the Horcrux without removing them, I fear that it would cause you great harm."

"I don't have a choice though, do I?"

Dumbledore's portrait eyed Harry intently for a moment. Finally, he replied, "There is something I'd like for you to see. While you are gone, I can ponder this matter."

"Gone?" asked Harry.

"Would you retrieve the Pensieve, please?"

Curious, and knowing that Dumbledore intended to show him a memory, Harry went to the black cabinet that held the Pensieve. He noticed then that Fawkes's golden perch, which once stood beside the cabinet, was now gone. This, somehow, weighted his heart and his body felt heavier as he brought the Pensieve to the desk, but did not lighten even when he'd put the basin down again. He ran a finger along the runes that were carved upon the edges.

"Now, Harry, I can see that you are carrying an enormous load of guilt and anger, and I hope that this little trip will relieve you of a bit of it."

Harry looked up at the portrait, feeling very transparent all of the sudden. He wanted nothing more than to be relieved of his burdens, but he knew that this relief would never come. The reality of it made him want to throw things. He took a deep breath, staring down into the silver liquid of the Pensieve.

"Sir, I don't think that anything can make it go away."

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Well, at the very least, the Pensieve can answer some of your questions."

"Questions?" asked Harry.

"Professor Lupin informed me that you had some inquiries regarding your mother," answered the portrait.

There was a horrible whirling in Harry's gut at the returning thought of his mum with Snape.

"Fortunately, he left a memory with me that may shed some light on your troubles."

Harry frowned. "Why wouldn't he tell me himself?"

"I think it's very important," began Dumbledore, "to see this for yourself."

Harry nodded.

"Go ahead," encouraged the portrait, gesturing towards the Pensieve.

Harry took a deep breath and plunged his face into the swirling clouds. He felt his body falling through emptiness before he landed on his feet in a dark hallway. There was a shallow breathing next to him and Harry turned to see a fifteen-year-old Lupin at his side. They were still at Hogwarts, in the familiar corridor that led to the Gryffindor common room. Lupin was watching something intently. Harry followed his gaze and realized that soft voices could be heard a few feet from the pair of them.

A lovely ginger-headed girl stood next to a skinny boy with greasy black hair.

"Lily, please," the boy was pleading.

Harry gasped. He left his place near Lupin and stepped closer to his mother and Snape.

"Stop it, Severus!" hissed Lily. "You can't treat me like dragon dung all year and then expect me to still want to be your friend!"

"I'm sorry!" whimpered Snape.

"_Are_ you?" she barked. "You put on a show for James Potter and his friends, pretending that you're not hurt by them, but I _know_ you. You're sensitive, and guess what? So am I. So when you call me a Mudblood in front of half the school, it hurts, Sev."

Snape looked as if he might cry. "I didn't mean it."

"It doesn't matter. You _said_ it."

Snape stepped closer to Lily, their faces only a few inches apart. Lily's eyes were angry, but Snape's were nothing but gentle. Harry's stomach turned as he watched. It was like a horrible accident – it disgusted him, but he couldn't turn away.

"If you know that I don't mean it, why are you so angry?" asked Snape softly.

"It's the principle of it, Severus. It's like you can't bear the thought of people knowing that we're friends. Then, we're alone, and you're… _different_. I find that pretty insulting."

"Friends?"

Lily frowned. "Of course."

Snape shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "A person has to protect himself in whatever way he knows."

"But you act like you have to protect yourself from _me_!" huffed Lily.

He studied her face, replying, "I _do_."

"_Why_?"

"Because I'm more vulnerable to _you_ than I am to James Potter," said Snape uncomfortably.

Lily narrowed her eyes. "I don't understand."

Before Harry could blink, Snape was kissing his mother. He was going to throw up. He just knew it.

Then, Lily was shoving him away. "I can't…"

Snape eyed her, visibly wounded. "_Now_ who's ashamed?"

"It's not _that_… How _dare_ you just…?" Lily took a deep breath.

"I…" he started, but halted.

She glared at him and then began to march away.

He called after her, anger and humiliation practically emitting in rays from his body, "You really are a Mudblood, aren't you, Evans?"

Lily stopped in her tracks, but she didn't turn to face him.

Finally, she snarled, "Don't ever speak to me again," and continued towards her common room.

Harry would never forget the expression that he witnessed on Snape's face at that moment. It was a look of absolute heartbreak. The boy stood there for a few minutes before dejectedly leaving the corridor.

Glancing over at Lupin, Harry saw that he was cowering in the shadows, so as not to be seen. When Snape was gone, Lupin, too, headed purposefully for the Gryffindor common room.

Harry followed him, but on their way, he was pulled from the scene, falling again through space. This time, he landed back in the Headmaster's office. At first, he thought that the experience was over, but then he saw Dumbledore, alive and well, sitting behind his desk, absorbed in his reading.

"Professor?" asked Harry, but Dumbledore did not look up. Harry noticed that he was quite a bit younger. He must be in a new memory. Another of Lupin's?

Then someone burst through the oak door and into the office.

"Professor!" cried a frantic voice.

"I'm sorry, Albus," said Professor McGonagall, who had followed Snape into the room. "He was absolutely insistent. I know it's late…"

Dumbledore stood calmly. "Thank you, Minerva."

She nodded hesitantly before leaving the room again.

"Professor!" bellowed Snape once more, when she had gone.

"What is it, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, peering curiously at him from beneath his half-moon spectacles.

"The Dark Lord!" he said breathlessly. "He's… Lily and James Potter! He intends to kill their first born!"

The Headmaster stood staring at Snape, who was panting, for a few moments. Finally, he replied, "You are a known Death Eater, Severus. How am I to know that you're telling me the truth?"

To Harry's enormous shock, tears began to pour down Snape's face. "Please," he sniveled. "You can't let him hurt Lily! I'll do anything! You have to help me!"

Dumbledore appeared calm, but Harry could tell that he was just as stunned by this confession.

"First, we must warn the Potters," he said.

"Yes," Snape agreed, sniffling. "Yes, they have to run. If something happens to her…"

He stopped, and Dumbledore prodded, "Yes?"

"It's all my fault!" Snape bawled. "I heard… something… and it could be nothing, but I told the Dark Lord and now he's decided that he has to kill this boy and if I'd known that it was Lily's boy, I never would have… It's all my fault and we… you… you have to help me protect her!"

Dumbledore was listening quietly. Harry was gaping, as he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Snape hastily pulled up his left sleeve and began scratching at his Dark Mark, shredding the skin, causing blood to drip languidly onto the floor at his feet. He was grunting angrily, resolutely.

"Stop it, Severus!" Dumbledore ordered abruptly.

It was the same thing that Lily had said to him. Harry suddenly realized that this was not the cool, enigmatic Snape that he knew. The boy standing before him was not much older than he had been when he'd passionately kissed Lily Evans, and now, he was petrified, completely incapable of concealing his emotions.

Snape had ceased tearing at his skin instantly at the Headmaster's command.

"We will keep her safe," Dumbledore was saying reassuringly. Then he glanced at Snape's forearm and continued, "The Mark is permanent but the way of life is not."

Snape inhaled slowly, cleared his throat, and then recovered his arm.

"I'll do _anything_," he said again, miserably.

"I can see that," responded Dumbledore. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to send an urgent owl."

"What can I do?" Snape asked.

"This is enough for one night."

"But…" began Snape, "I can't go back to the Death Eaters."

Dumbledore paused. "No, I suppose not. Well, you will just have to stay here. You were always rather good at Potions, weren't you?"

Snape nodded, a brief look of wistfulness flashing over his face.

This was the moment when Harry was jerked roughly from the room, only to appear there once more, just a few seconds later. He pulled his face from the Pensieve and inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"Learn anything new?" asked Dumbledore's portrait casually.

Harry gritted his teeth, unable to speak for a few moments. "I'm sorry, Professor," he seethed finally, "but I think I'm angrier now than when we started."

"Are you?" the portrait inquired in surprise.

"Of course, I am! Snape claimed to love my mum but he's the reason she's dead!"

Dumbledore blinked before responding, "I think we can agree that he is only _part_ of the reason. He has shown great remorse for his mistakes, as you can see, and will carry the grief for the rest of his life."

"_Snape_ will carry the grief? What about me? _I'm_ the one stuck with the real grief! He probably wasn't even truly sorry! It was probably all an act!" Harry's ears were hot and he felt as if acid were boiling inside of him, ready to spew out at any moment.

"Professor Snape was an excellent Occlumens, even then," said Dumbledore calmly. "Yet, that night, he made no attempt to shield his thoughts from me. He _was_ truly sorry, and will remain so for all of his days."

Harry was so overcome with fury that he wasn't sure what to say to this. He didn't believe it, and he would never trust Snape, the man responsible for his parents' deaths. He flung himself despondently into the chair in front of the desk.

"Harry, do you still not see why I trusted Professor Snape?"

Harry glared up at the portrait. "He _killed_ you! Or have you forgotten? You're stuck in that stupid frame, because of _Snape_!"

Before Dumbledore could react to this outburst, there was a loud crackling in the fire and Harry looked up to see Tonks standing before them. He got to his feet in surprise.

"We did it!" she chimed. Then a flabbergasted, "Harry!"

They looked at each other for a moment.

"How did you get in here?" asked Tonks, seeming to have composed herself.

"You've finished it?" Dumbledore's portrait interrupted.

"Yes, though I still don't know why you need this," replied Tonks hesitantly.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Wonderfluff!" she answered brightly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Wonderfluff," she repeated. "It's a purifying agent. Remus and I have been working on it for months!"

Harry remembered Lupin clearing the kitchen table when he had come to ask about his mum.

"Purifying agent?" he echoed.

"I think Harry will be needing some of that," suggested Dumbledore.

"What on earth _for_?" Tonks questioned.

"The reason is inconsequential at this point," replied the portrait.

Uncertainly, Tonks handed a small vial to Harry. It was filled with glittery, silver powder, as if someone had bottled a finely ground piece of the moon. Harry thought that it was magnificent.

He'd only just noticed that the sun had risen. It was early morning now, and Harry felt a glimmer of excitement at the thought that Ron and Hermione would be up soon, and he would be able to share the beauty of the Wonderfluff with the pair of them.

"That will be all," Dumbledore was saying to Tonks.

"But… I…" She looked a bit put out.

The portrait smiled warmly at her. "All will be explained in time. I am very grateful for this."

"OK… I'll be going then…" Tonks stepped slowly back into the fire, looked questioningly at Dumbledore's portrait once more, and then disappeared.

"What does it do?" Harry asked straight away.

"It's exactly what we need!" answered Dumbledore cheerily.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Tap out a bit onto the locket," Dumbledore advised, and Harry obliged, pulling the cork from the vial and tipping it over the necklace.

"Careful not to touch it," continued the portrait. "It'll strip your skin, much like the Muggle substance by the name of bleach."

Harry carefully shook out a small amount of the silvery powder and took a step back, resealing the bottle.

The locket quivered slightly but nothing significant happened.

"I'm afraid, Harry, that perhaps you will need to empty the bottle," suggested Dumbledore.

Disappointed that he wouldn't be able to take any of the Wonderfluff with him, Harry begrudgingly drained the vial onto the necklace, which immediately began to rattle upon the desk, as if it was very angry. Harry heard a faint sizzling noise coming from it. After a few seconds, it ceased and fell still again.

"Do you think that worked?"

"Let's see," replied the portrait.

"_Aperio_."

The Horcrux remained motionless.

"I think that we can destroy the soul now," said Dumbledore.

"Are you _sure_?" asked Harry uncertainly.

"Quite," Dumbledore nodded.

"And how do I do that?"

"That would be a very difficult spell by the incantation of _Sepelio,_" he replied. "I have every reason to believe that you will have no difficulty performing it accurately."

Harry sighed. "Don't be so sure."

"Oh, but I am," grinned Dumbledore's portrait.

Harry returned the smile, instantly warmed and encouraged by Dumbledore's continued faith in him. He raised his wand confidently and chanted, "_Sepelio_!"

The locket flew into the air, shattered, and came crashing back down onto the remnants of the sweater, making a soft thudding noise as it met the desk beneath the fabric. A black, swirling cloud emerged from the now-open locket, rising into the air before Harry, and then disintegrating into a million tiny particles.

Harry exhaled, feeling the oxygen slowly leave his chest, loosening his tight nerves.

"Excellent work, Harry!" chimed Dumbledore proudly. "What does that leave? Two more?"

"Two more, yes," agreed Harry.

"That would be Hufflepuff's goblet and perhaps the snake, Nagini?"

"Perhaps…" Harry frowned. "But _where_ is the real question. And _how_. Neither of which is the actual problem anyway."

"What is the _actual_ problem?"

"Hopelessness. Discouragement. Self-doubt." He had never said these things aloud.

"On what grounds?" Dumbledore inquired. "Have you not proven your ability to yourself?"

"It comes and goes," replied Harry.

"Perhaps because you do not fear your inadequacy, but your own power?"

"No, I fear my weakness," Harry said.

"What would that be?" Dumbledore eyed Harry significantly. Then, "Ah, we speak of the same thing."

Harry looked up curiously.

"Love is not your weakness, Harry. It is your power. I've tried to teach you this."

Harry took a deep breath and shifted his weight uncomfortably. He should have never mentioned it.

"I don't agree, sir," he said simply. "Sometimes, it's like I can't see straight."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You must not confuse love with anger, Harry. Love may inadvertently _cause_ anger, but it needn't. That is a decision that you make."

Harry sighed in defeat. Perhaps _anger_ was his weakness. He was entirely unable to control it in most cases.

"Your temper will become easier to manage with time," encouraged the portrait, as if reading his mind. "But time is a luxury that we do not have, I'm afraid. For now, you must focus on love. Let it be more powerful than anger. It will save you."

Silent, due to the love currently surging mightily through him, Harry stared at his feet. He had needed this so badly. He wished that he could stay here with the portrait forever.

"Well, I believe that your fellow Gryffindors will be heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast shortly. Perhaps you should join them."

Harry nodded and, after gathering the locket and what remained of the cardigan, he stepped towards the door.

"Sir?" he asked as he took up his Firebolt, which he'd propped against the wall.

"Yes, Harry?"

"_Can_ I trust her?"

Dumbledore smiled. "It was nice to see you, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor, for… everything."

"Thank _you_, Harry."


	11. Chapter Eleven: Caught Kissing

**Chapter Eleven – Caught Kissing**

Neville Longbottom was on his way out of the Fat Lady's portrait when Harry approached the Gryffindor common room.

"Hold the door," requested Harry.

"Harry!" exclaimed Neville, who didn't even make an effort to hold the portrait ajar. "What're you doing back?"

"Just popping in for a visit," Harry responded vaguely.

"Oh," said Neville, who had turned a sort of maroon color. "For how long?"

Harry shrugged. "What's wrong with you?"

Neville swallowed and averted his eyes. "Nothing."

"OK…"

The round-faced boy was shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"What's the password?" asked Harry.

"Fever Fudge," Neville replied, obviously relieved to end the conversation.

The portrait swung open and Harry stepped through, calling, "Thanks," to Neville, who had already hurried away towards the Great Hall.

Harry intended to sit by the fire, waiting for Ron and Hermione and pondering over the memories that Dumbledore had shown him. He saw a couple kissing in one of the dark corners, but otherwise, the room was empty. He ignored the pair and started towards the best chair. He had just put down the things that he'd been carrying when…

"Harry!" exclaimed a girl's surprised voice.

He turned to see Ron and Hermione. He froze in shock.

The three of them looked at each other. Harry could tell, even in the dimly lit room, that Ron's face was a brilliant shade of red.

"_You_ two?" choked Harry.

Hermione nodded.

He gulped. "H– how long?"

"Couple of months," Ron shrugged.

"_Months_?" Harry exclaimed. "Did you ever plan on telling me?"

This is how Ron must have felt when Harry had kissed Ginny. It was not the best of feelings.

"Of course, we did," Hermione began. "We just thought you had enough to worry about as it was."

Harry stared at them. He suddenly felt very much like a third wheel, as if their trio had become a twosome and he was no longer wanted or needed. Not knowing exactly what to do next, he just stomped away towards the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Harry, wait."

Hermione had come into the light. Ron continued to cower in the shadows.

"Please don't be upset," she said.

Harry blinked. "I'm just… surprised…"

"Are you _really_?" she asked. "I mean, no one else was."

"No one _else_? Everyone knew but _me_?"

At this point, Ron stepped up beside Hermione, as if to defend her from a tirade he thought might be coming.

"You had loads to deal with and it didn't concern you," he said.

"Didn't _concern_ me?" hissed Harry. "You're my best friends!"

"Look, I let you go out with my sister, so you have no right to be mad about this," Ron countered.

"I'm not… mad," Harry said slowly, "I just hate being the last to know."

"But can't you see why we didn't tell you?" pleaded Hermione.

Harry shrugged. Yes, he could see why. And he really _wasn't_ mad. But he did feel very excluded from every aspect of his life that he'd previously known, and this sensation _did_ anger him. He was so isolated, so alone. He wasn't allowed to spend time with his friends or to keep up on the latest Hogwarts couples or even to revise along with everyone else. He had a mission that was so much bigger than himself, and sometimes, he wished that this had happened to someone else.

"What are you even _doing_ here?" Hermione asked then, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Oh…" Harry held up the scarlet key. "Opens the Headmaster's office."

Hermione gasped.

"You went to talk to Dumbledore's portrait?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, and it was… informative."

Hermione had taken Harry's hand and was dragging him to the fireplace. "Tell us _everything_!"

Harry settled into one of the large chairs and Ron and Hermione did the same, opposite him.

He sat there, trying to clear his head of the vision of his two best friends that seemed to be burned behind his eyelids.

Ron and Hermione were watching him circumspectly.

So he asked, "Hey, what's up with Neville?"

They shared a furtive glance.

"He's been dreading running into you," Hermione started.

"Why?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"He likes Ginny," interjected Ron.

"What?"

"But that's all it is," added Hermione quickly. "He just didn't want you to find out and be angry with him."

"I don't care. Loads of blokes like Ginny," Harry said, but he _was_ feeling a sense of possession rising in his chest…

"You _are_ planning to get back together with her when all of this is over, aren't you?" asked Hermione.

"I can't think about that right now."

"Well, she's counting on it, Harry," she continued. "She's turned down a lot of requests for dates, because she thinks you two will be together again."

Harry inhaled deeply. He couldn't be with Ginny right now, but he didn't want her to be with anyone else either. Yet, something in him didn't want the obligation when it was all over, and this realization instantly brought on a bout of guilt.

"So tell us what happened with Dumbledore," said Ron, changing the subject.

Harry gave him a grateful smile. Then he explained the past month and a half to his two best friends, though he left out the bit where he'd told Luci about the Horcruxes, pretending that he'd recognized the locket himself. They listened intently, with a few intakes of breath here and there, especially from Hermione.

When he'd explained his experience at Godric's Hollow, she had gasped, "Oh, Harry, that's awful!" and her response at the tale of Ravenclaw's wings went something like, "Of course, it all makes perfect sense. Fortunate that Moody was around."

Finally, when Harry's mouth was dry from talking and he'd finished conveying his adventure inside of the Pensieve, Ron said, "Snape and your mum, that's disgusting!"

"Yeah, you're lucky you didn't have to _see_ it," agreed Harry, his stomach turning at the memory.

"Harry, what if Dumbledore was right in trusting Professor Snape and he really _is_ on our side?" offered Hermione.

"Don't be daft," chortled Ron.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but before they could begin to bicker, Harry said, "Ron's right. It doesn't matter what he has or hasn't done. He killed Dumbledore, and that's proof enough to me that he's still a Death Eater."

Ron nodded and Hermione frowned thoughtfully.

"So you've done away with two Horcruxes," said Ron. "Maybe you could take a break and stay here a while, watch some Quidditch, you know. I've kept the team alive without you."

"I have some things to do here, so that sounds all right," agreed Harry.

"We can't lose our sense of urgency," Hermione huffed. "We're not ahead of the game until we've destroyed _all_ of them."

"Can't you see the man needs to rest, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"Yes, but getting rid of two Horcruxes that quickly just seems too easy to me. If it was a stroke of luck, we may be in for much more difficult endeavors with the remaining ones."

Ron and Harry exchanged a significant glance.

"Oh, all right," sighed Hermione, "but just a short break."

* * *

None of them had been down to the kitchens in a long while. When Harry reached up to tickle the pear in the painting that transformed into the kitchen door, he realized that he'd been much shorter the last time.

Inside, the house-elves were very busy, bustling around with their breakfast duties. Harry's eyes ran over the brass pots and pans along the walls, towards the brick fireplace in the back, and across each of the house tables, searching for Kreacher.

"There," said Hermione, pointing towards the Hufflepuff table.

The three of them made their way over to where Kreacher was standing, lazily scrubbing a teacup with a small, white rag. He looked exactly the same as the last time they'd seen him, his wrinkled skin folded along his body and his face aged and grumpy, wearing the same filthy loincloth about his hips. Harry tapped him on the shoulder. He turned with a terrified squeak, mumbling something like, "Filthy," at the sight of them.

"Got some questions for you," said Harry.

The house-elf blinked. "Kreacher knows nothing."

Harry held up the locket. "No?"

Kreacher shook his head.

"Look, I know that Dobby won it from you, so where did you get it?"

Kreacher scowled at Harry and said, "It belonged to Kreacher's mistress and Kreacher rescued it from her home, desecrated by the friends of Mudbloods, filthy, dirty..."

"_How_ did you get it?"

The house-elf hesitated.

"I _demand_ that you tell me exactly where this came from," said Harry firmly.

"Kreacher must do what his despicable Master wants," snarled Kreacher. Then, he continued, "But it is a horrible story to relive."

"Too bad."

Then, Harry had an idea.

"Perhaps you could _show_ us?" he asked.

Kreacher, who seemed to need no further explanation, went to a nearby shelf and retrieved a glass jar. Unscrewing the lid, he put a finger to his temple. After a moment, a silvery strand of mist followed his crooked finger and swirled into the jar, after which, he replaced the lid. He begrudgingly handed the jar to Harry, hissing, "Good riddance."

"Did you see that?" asked Ron, poking Harry in the arm. "Didn't even need a wand!"

"Wand?" scoffed Kreacher. "Stupid, ignorant, knows nothing…" Then he walked away from the three of them, mumbling hatefully as he went.

"That was easier than I thought it'd be," muttered Ron.

"Come on," said Harry. "We have to get back to the Headmaster's office before breakfast is over so that we can use the Pensieve."

"Head_mistress_," Hermione corrected him.

"Right."

The three of them hurried from the kitchens and back up through the castle to the tower that contained Dumbledore's old office.

Harry forced the key into the gargoyle's mouth and they rode the staircase up to the oak door. They were relieved to find that the room was still unoccupied. The Pensieve sat where Harry had left it on the desk. He'd forgotten to put it away. Perhaps McGonagall hadn't noticed it when she'd come down?

Dumbledore was gone from his portrait and Hermione was looking into the blank frame, tears in her eyes.

"Hurry," Harry said, stepping up to the Pensieve and emptying the contents of the glass jar into it.

Ron and Hermione were standing to his right.

"Ready?" he asked them.

They nodded, and then, all three of them plunged their faces into the basin.

After a long fall through space, Harry was back on that tiny little island. It was exactly as it had been the night with Dumbledore, except that Ron and Hermione stood beside him. The air had the same fragrance, the same chill. Every hair on Harry's body was standing on end, his nerves alive with tension. Being here again was worse than he could have ever imagined it.

It was dark all around them, but they could see Regulus Black's lit wand as he and Kreacher approached in the small boat. The house-elf was blaspheming wildly, calling Regulus all sorts of rude things.

"I've told you to stop your complaining," Harry could hear Regulus say as the boat hit the shore of the island, just a few feet from the three onlookers. He was not as attractive as his older brother had been at the same age, but they were unmistakably related. His shaggy brown hair fell into his dark eyes and his chiseled jaw was set as he hauled the small vessel onto the bank.

"Don't touch the water!" he commanded Kreacher, who was now making his way out of the boat.

"Why Kreacher had to come, betraying the family, betraying your poor mother, Kreacher's poor mistress…" the house-elf was growling as he went.

"Quiet!" Regulus hissed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in silence as the young man stood, looking around the flat expanse of rock, his eyes immediately falling on the stone basin that Harry remembered so vividly. Its green light illuminated a small circle around the pedestal.

"The Horcrux will be in there," Regulus said, pointing.

"Dangerous, reckless, stupid ideas," replied Kreacher.

"Cambias said that you must drink the liquid to get to the bottom," he said, pondering aloud. Then he gestured to Kreacher, "That'll be your job, I think."

"Kreacher refuses!"

Regulus smiled, his handsome features brightening. "Oh, if only you had a choice," he chuckled.

Kreacher stomped in place, turning angrily in a circle, as if he were a child throwing a tantrum.

"Who, do you suppose, is Cambias?" Ron whispered, leaning into Harry, who shrugged.

"He can't make that poor house-elf drink that stuff!" Hermione objected.

Harry glanced at her. "You can't expect Regulus to drink it."

Hermione's bottom lip quivered, but she didn't reply.

Regulus was removing a small goblet from his pocket and approaching the basin.

"Come here, Kreacher," he said to the elf.

Kreacher sauntered over begrudgingly, the liquid's phosphorescent light casting a glow over his ripened face.

Regulus, who appeared to have been clearly instructed on how to retrieve the Horcrux, perhaps by this Cambias person, dipped the cup into the green liquid with no difficulty. He handed it to Kreacher, who took it, but shook his head adamantly.

"I command you to drink it," said Regulus.

Harry saw Hermione grip Ron's arm and bury her head in his shoulder, her face hidden by her bushy hair.

Kreacher had drained the cup and Regulus was refilling it. The three of them watched as Kreacher drank cup after cup of the green liquid. It seemed to have no effect on him.

But gradually, after many helpings (Harry thought they might be up to nine), Kreacher's tiny little body began to twitch convulsively. His whitened face looked up pleadingly at Regulus. "No more!"

Regulus frowned sternly at the house-elf, thrusting another goblet-full into his hands.

"I command you to drink it," he said again.

And Kreacher did. He consumed three more cups before falling to the ground, beseeching, "Please, no more, Kreacher begs, Kreacher begs!"

Hermione was sobbing. Ron was looking on in horror. Harry, who found this all too familiar, could suddenly hear Dumbledore's frightened voice in his head, begging, crying the same things. He couldn't prevent it – he turned from Ron and Hermione and threw up onto the cold, hard rock. But the vomit disappeared as soon as it hit the surface of the island. Perplexed, Harry clutched his stomach and forced his eyes back to the horrible scene.

Kreacher was screaming, "Don't make Kreacher! Please! Kreacher wants to stop!" His wrinkled body was flailing upon the ground. He cowered as Regulus offered him another cup-full.

"Death! Kreacher wants death! Kill Kreacher!"

Another cup.

"Kreacher is so thirsty…"

Harry could see that Regulus's features were now soft and sympathetic, and he was revolted by what he was doing. Harry knew this feeling well. He thought that he might heave again, but before he could, he heard a whooshing sound, and as he turned towards it, he realized that Ron and Hermione were no longer beside him. A wave of panic swept over him, but it was immediately replaced by the sensation of sailing through the air.

All of the sudden, he was in the office again, and Professor McGonagall had him by the scruff of the neck.

"_What_ do you three think you're _doing_?" she snarled wrathfully, fire practically erupting from her ears.

Harry swallowed and looked from Ron to Hermione. They were both frozen in shock. Then, without warning, all three of them began to spout excuses at the Headmistress, their voices mingling together into an indistinguishable noise.

"QUIET!" shouted Professor McGonagall, and they ceased at once.

"Now," she began, her voice shaking from anger, "let us try again, one at a time. Miss Granger, you have been endowed with wisdom beyond your years. How do you explain your present lack of it?"

"Well, you see, Profess– Headmistress. You see, we… um, well…"

"And a very good explanation, indeed," said McGonagall, frustrated. Then, "What are _you_ doing here, Potter?"

"Same as Hermione," said Harry dryly.

The Headmistress gave a furious huff. "I _mean _to say," she continued, "_how_ did you get here? I was not told that you'd be returning to school."

Then her eyes fell on the medallion around Harry's neck. She reached out for it and he took an instinctive step backwards.

"_That_ is a much better explanation than Miss Granger's. Give it to me, please."

Harry shook his head. "It's not mine."

The stern woman narrowed her eyes. "Luci Keegan gave that to you, didn't she?"

Ron and Hermione gaped at Harry, who said nothing.

"_Accio_ Professor's Pass," said McGonagall, and Harry felt the chain break against the nape of his neck as the medallion floated away from him towards the Headmistress. He clenched his jaw in anger.

Professor McGonagall pocketed the Pass and cleared her throat. "In the future, I would appreciate it if you could abstain from entering my office without permission. Good day."

The trio stared silently at her.

"I _said_, good day!" the Headmistress repeated crossly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione got their wits about them and stumbled towards the door. Harry tugged it open and they rushed from the room, tore down the staircase, and didn't stop running until they were many yards from the stone gargoyle.

Bending over, his hands on his knees, Ron breathed, "Mum and Dad'll be furious!"

At that moment, a small man wearing billowing red robes rounded the corner. Harry didn't recognize him.

"Arnaud Finnister, the new Defense teacher," said Hermione, as if reading his mind. He looked at her, and her face was blanched and tear-stained.

"Shouldn't the three of you be getting to class?" Professor Finnister asked as he approached them. His light brown hair was clean cut and he looked remarkably as if he were a Muggle who might have wandered into the wrong attire.

His young, spectacle-clad face adjusted into a striking smile as he continued, "Right, off you go then."

The three of them began to continue past him, but suddenly, Finnister had seized Harry forcefully by the arm.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Attack On Hogwarts

**Chapter Twelve – Attack on Hogwarts**

Turning to face the new professor, Harry wriggled his arm free and started to object.

But Arnaud Finnister was studying the lightning bolt scar upon Harry's forehead.

"I haven't seen you around here," began the young man. "Are you new?"

"No," said Harry.

Finnister squinted again at Harry's forehead, examining it closely.

"Could it _really_ be… Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded hesitantly.

His face breaking into a wide smile, Finnister took Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"_So_ nice to meet you!" he gushed.

"Er… you too," Harry replied. He jerked his hand away and wiped it on his trousers. The man's grip had been firm and clammy.

Finnister blinked, surprised by Harry's icy manner, but then recovered with, "Well, _one_ of us must be getting to class, anyhow. I'm late again, I'm afraid."

The man turned on his heel and hastened back along the corridor, calling again behind him, "So nice to meet you, Harry Potter!"

"Curious bloke," muttered Harry, watching the professor as he hurried away.

"Didn't I tell ya?" Ron concurred.

Hermione ignored both of them and said instead, "I didn't even _think_ to ask you how you'd gotten into the castle! What else haven't you told us, Harry?"

Harry glanced cagily at her, and then, without a word, walked away from the pair of them, back towards the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione was instantly at his side again, and he could hear Ron's footsteps following.

"Why d'ya think she was so easy on us?" asked Ron musingly. "McGonagall, that is," he added.

"You've never kept secrets from us before, Harry," said Hermione, disregarding Ron, and sounding very disappointed in Harry.

"You've never kept secrets from me either, but things change, apparently," he replied, refusing to look at her.

"Yes, but that was for your own good."

"Right." Harry picked up his pace.

"Do you really feel like you can trust Luci?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry stopped abruptly and Ron almost barreled into him. He glared at Hermione.

"I don't know, OK? But she's helped me and she's kept things to herself. And that's the end of it."

Then he started off again, and the three of them traveled the remaining distance in silence.

* * *

After the morning's onerous events, Hermione had gone up to her dormitory in a terrible distress, muttering about resurrecting S.P.E.W. right away. The common room was empty and Harry and Ron were sitting quietly by the fire, neither looking at the other.

Eventually, Ron broke the silence. "The team has been good this year. Ginny's doing a great job as Seeker."

Harry nodded distractedly. His thoughts were bouncing back and forth between Luci and the tasks ahead of him and the image of Ron and Hermione kissing in a dark corner.

After a few more minutes, Ron began again, "Hagrid told us where your parents are buried."

This got Harry's attention. "I almost forgot! Where did he say?"

"Near your grandparents," Ron replied.

"Which set?"

"Oh, the Muggle ones."

"And where is that?" he asked Ron, who shrugged.

"Dunno. Forgot to ask that, actually. Figured you'd know."

"We should go down and see Hagrid anyway," said Harry, rising. "Let's find out."

Ron glanced at the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories as he, too, got to his feet.

"Let her rest," Harry suggested. "Come on."

They strolled leisurely down to Hagrid's hut. The grounds were empty, as most of the students were in class. The October air was chilly, but fresh and clean, and Harry breathed deeply as they walked. He had missed the scent of this grass, these trees, the aroma of home.

"So who made the first move?"

"Sorry?" asked Ron.

"With you and Hermione."

Ron blushed. "Who do you think? She did, of course. I'd never! She's out of my league."

Grinning, Harry asked, "When?"

"At the Burrow, before we came to Sirius's place. I'd been teasing her about spending her holiday studying for the N.E.W.T.s and she said, 'We're too old for this, Ronald,' and planted one on me. What could I do?"

Ron's imitation of Hermione had been spot on. Harry laughed.

Though he still felt somehow excluded, and this bothered him, Harry was happy for his best friends. It had been a long time coming.

Their knock on the hut's door was answered promptly. At the sight of Harry, Hagrid grinned broadly, his eyes shining beneath the dark, tangled masses of hair and beard.

"C'min, c'min," he said cheerily.

Harry and Ron entered and, at Hagrid's gesture, settled themselves into chairs around the table. Fang came over immediately and put his head into Harry's lap. Though he felt his jeans instantly soaking through with drool, he stroked the dog's head affectionately.

"Tea?" asked Hagrid, shoving a plate of cookies at them. But before they could answer, he'd continued, "Heard Finnister an' Todge talkin' abou' yer return, so knew yeh was here. They were a bit too excited, if yeh ask me."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Too excited? What do you mean?"

"Finnister could hardly contain 'imself, an' Todge, well, she's a quiet 'un, but she looked pleased."

Before Harry could raise any more questions about the new Hogwarts professors, Hagrid had gone on, "Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Harry doesn't know where his Muggle grandparents are buried," Ron chimed in.

"No?" asked Hagrid, giving Harry an astonished frown.

Harry shook his head.

"To tell yeh the truth, I was surprised yeh didn' know that yer parents were buried wit' 'em. It was in the letter 'at Dumbledore left fer yer aunt an' uncle. 'Course, those Muggles didn' tell yeh nothin'! Rotten of 'em! James an' Lily Potter, in a car crash! Rubbish!" Hagrid was growling angrily.

"What letter?" Harry inquired.

"The one 'at Professor Dumbledore left on the doorstep with yeh, tellin' yer aunt an' uncle what had happened, an' why they had to keep yeh, an' where yer parents had been buried."

"I never knew about any letter."

"No, 'course not," Hagrid said. "Told yeh abou' it the night I first met yeh, mind, but doubt yeh remember, eh?"

Harry shook his head. "What else do you think they didn't tell me?"

"I can' remember the whole thing, but I think 'at was the lot of it."

Harry knew, in that moment, that he had to get his hands on that letter.

"So my parents? They're in a Muggle graveyard?"

"Righ' there in Little Whingin', near yer mum's old house. Nice green grass, matter o' fact. Took 'em 'ere myself," he said, with a proud smile.

"Hagrid," said Ron slowly. "These cookies are actually good!"

Hagrid grinned. "Work o' Olympe, those are!"

"Where is she?" asked Harry.

"Has a school to run, but sends me packages now an' again," replied Hagrid, whose sparse visible skin had shone instantly red at the mention of Madam Maxime.

Harry and Ron smiled knowingly at one another. They were pretty sure that Hagrid and the French Headmistress had become an item.

The two boys spent a good deal of the early afternoon in Hagrid's hut, drinking tea and enjoying the suspiciously tasty cookies. Harry told Hagrid about his tiresome summer with the Dursleys and about visiting Godric's Hollow, and Hagrid had wept at the mention of that fateful night.

When Harry and Ron returned to the common room, Hermione gave them both an earful about being sure to always tell her where they were going so that she didn't worry. Ron had humored her and, when she was quite finished, had kissed her softly and told her that she was very cute. Harry, uncomfortable, had turned away.

* * *

That evening, Harry joined the rest of Hogwarts in the Great Hall for dinner, though there weren't many students remaining after the summer's events. Even still, it was good to be back, beneath the beautiful enchanted ceiling, surrounded by the various house colors. But looking up at the staff table, however full of familiar faces, Harry felt that there was an air of emptiness without Dumbledore.

A good deal of pointing and whispering had been taking place, but Harry tried to ignore it as he dove into his shepherd's pie. Ron told him that most of the students were forbidden to speak to him, due to their parents' fears that he would drag them into one of his notorious adventures. He laughed aloud at this and noticed Ginny glance up at him. She was positioned down the table, next to Neville, and they both decidedly avoided eye contact.

Suddenly, the casual chatter in the Hall was interrupted by a thunderous disturbance from the Hogwarts grounds. A small girl from the Slytherin table went to a window and, after assessing the situation, emitted a high-pierced scream. The whole room exploded in commotion. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who each gave him a nonplussed expression.

Filch burst through the oak doors of the hall, shouting, "Death Eaters! Death Eaters on the grounds!"

"Everyone to their common rooms!" commanded Professor McGonagall, without missing a beat.

There was a mad rush for the door. Dishware shattered, sobs rose amongst the crowd, and people mowed over one another in their haste to reach safety. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained in their seats.

"The Death Eaters are in Azkaban!" Ron screamed over the noise.

"Certainly not _all_ of them!" responded Hermione.

"What do they want?" yelled Harry.

"My guess is YOU!" Hermione answered.

"But how…?" Then Harry knew the answer to his own question. "Finnister and Todge! They know I'm here! Maybe one of them is a Death Eater?"

"McGonagall would never hire a Death Eater to teach us!"

"Dumbledore let a few slip through, so she could make the same mistake!"

Hermione bit her lip.

Harry leaned into the two of them so that no one else could hear him, but he was still shouting. "If they want me, I can't let them come in here and attack innocent people!"

Ron and Hermione shared a worried look.

"I'm going out to face them!" he declared.

He hurried towards the back of the Great Hall, with Ron and Hermione at his heels, through the door that Hagrid had often entered to join the feasts. It took them directly out onto the grounds, where they could see many hooded Death Eaters advancing upon the castle. The Hogwarts staff was bursting through the oak front doors, throwing spell after spell at the intruders, who retaliated viciously.

"Out! Out!" Professor McGonagall was shouting at the lot of them.

Harry was keeping a close eye on Arnaud Finnister and a tall, yet plump, woman whom he didn't recognize, but whom he assumed was Clares Todge. He thought one or both of them might show signs of treason.

"Give us the boy!" someone shouted.

"What boy?" Professor Slughorn asked.

"Potter! We want Potter!"

"Well, you won't find him here, you idiots!" snarled Professor Sprout.

She was on her back before Harry could take another breath. Hermione made a choking noise.

"We know he's here!" said a familiar voice, and Harry's gut dropped out, because he knew that the voice belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had killed Sirius.

The rest of the professors instantly descended onto the hooded figures, who stood their ground, wands held high.

"We have to help them!" said Harry, gesturing for Ron and Hermione to follow him.

"Harry, we can't!" protested Hermione.

He continued forward and didn't look at her, but called over his shoulder, "Stay if you like."

"Wait!" commanded Ron.

Harry stopped and followed Ron's gaze, out towards the Forbidden Forest. In the distance, the three of them could see Grawp emerging from the foliage, led by Hagrid.

A squeal of delight popped from Hermione's mouth. "Everything will be fine now!"

Harry, who thought this was quite an overstatement, watched silently as Grawp joined the professors, flailing his massive arms into the cluster of Death Eaters. They released screams of protest as, one by one, they were flung into the air, sometimes landing yards away. One of them didn't get up again.

This went on for some time, with the Death Eaters and the Hogwarts professors swapping curses, and Grawp throwing his weight around. At one point, someone had lit Professor Trelawny's shawl on fire and she had hopped around in a circle, trying to extinguish the flames. Several people fell on each side, but the three onlookers had trouble seeing what exactly was happening. They could only observe helplessly.

"We can't just do _nothing_!" Harry finally said to Ron and Hermione. "Let's put on the Cloak and see if we can sneak into the middle of it."

His best friends agreed, though hesitantly, and Harry took the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and stretched it over the three of them. They began a slow walk towards the battle, trying to keep their feet hidden and to remain silent.

Once they were on the outskirts, they began firing spells of their own. Befuddled Death Eaters looked around for the source of the attack, and Harry stunned one of them who had paused in confusion.

"They're just innocent children!" he heard Finnister shouting at someone.

The Death Eater responded, "Give us Potter and there's no need for anyone else to get hurt!"

"But Potter's not here, _is_ he?" panted Professor Flitwick, who was dueling a hooded figure nearby.

At that moment, Harry knew what he had to do. He must protect all of those innocent children. He stepped out from beneath the Cloak, and Hermione hissed, "No, Harry!"

"You can have me, but you have to promise to leave the school," he began shakily.

The nearest Death Eater, the one who'd demanded his surrender, cackled victoriously and pointed his wand at Harry's chest.

"NO!" cried a gruff voice, and Hagrid threw himself in front of Harry.

Around them, everyone had ceased their battling, all eyes on the new situation.

"Not too bright, are you, baby Potter?" came Bellatrix's denigrating tone.

"Step away, half-breed," snarled the Death Eater standing before Hagrid. "We just want the boy."

"I will _not_!" Hagrid protested.

"Hagrid, please," begged Harry, from behind the gamekeeper. He tugged on the back of the massive tunic, but Hagrid didn't move.

"Very well," said the Death Eater, and he redirected his wand towards Hagrid and shouted, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Hagrid put up his hands in defense, and the curse seemed to ricochet, causing both men to fall to the ground. The Death Eater's mask flew off, and Harry saw a tubby man who looked remarkably like an older version of Gregory Goyle…

Ron's voice came, bathed with emotion, "Hermione!"

Harry saw disembodied legs fall against the moist grass.

Hagrid was lying on his back, and Harry dashed towards him. There was something in the gamekeeper's hand, something shiny, something that had caught the spell… the Professor's Pass! Harry reached for it, but a flash of yellow light flew past his ear and he withdrew, tumbling and losing his footing.

Suddenly, Trelawny gasped, "Look!" and pointed towards the Forbidden Forest.

A herd of centaurs, lead by Firenze, was materializing from the dense trees. Their bows were in hand, and they appeared fierce and reluctantly ready for battle.

At the sight of them, the Death Eaters who were still standing seemed to realize that their attack had failed. They scattered and began to dart away, towards the cast-iron gates of the castle.

One straggler lunged at Harry, but Harry, from his place on the ground, kicked the person in the face and backed away, crab-like, on his hands. The Death Eater recoiled and then hopped to their feet, following the others.

"After them!" shouted McGonagall.

"We need to get them to Madam Pomfrey," said Finnister, gesturing to the bodies strewn upon the ground.

Harry was trying to get a better look at Hagrid. The large chest wasn't rising and falling in its usual fashion. He felt his insides growing cold. Hagrid couldn't be dead… just couldn't… The spell had backfired… hadn't it?

"Get back inside, the three of you!" ordered McGonagall.

Harry didn't move, and neither did the still Cloak-covered Ron or Hermione, the latter of which seemed to have fainted.

"Well, go on, Potter, help him with the girl and get back inside! This instant!"

Harry nodded numbly and then assisted Ron with tugging Hermione to her feet, and they turned grudgingly back towards the castle.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had entered their common room without anyone noticing them, as the room was bursting with fretful voices. Harry had a nervous churning in his stomach, and he was anxious for news on Hagrid. He paced in a small corner of the room, and Hermione, who had come to, chewed her bottom lip, as the rest of the Gryffindors gossiped about the recent happenings. Ron sat cross-legged and unvoiced near Harry's feet.

McGonagall entered through the Fat Lady's portrait almost an hour later, her face pale as frost, her hands visibly shaking.

"The Death Eaters have been eradicated from the grounds," she said slowly, her voice quavering.

There was a cheer from the back of the room.

"But," the Headmistress began again, "at a great cost."

Murmuring began to spread throughout the room.

McGonagall cleared her throat and choked, "Professor Sprout…"

She stopped and wiped a handkerchief across her eyes, knocking her glasses askew. To Harry's left, he heard Hermione breath, "She's not even _trying_ to seem composed."

"Professor Sprout and… and Professor H-Hagrid… have… fallen… in the fight."

"F-Fallen?" stammered Neville.

McGonagall took a deep breath. "They've… passed on, Longbottom."

With this, and a small sob, the Headmistress hurried back out through the portrait.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Mouth of Slytherin

**Chapter Thirteen – The Mouth of Slytherin**

Harry's knees had locked beneath him. He felt frozen in place, an obnoxious buzzing filling his ears. As he looked around the room, he saw the Gryffindors comforting each other, the girls crying, the boys looking horrorstruck. Hermione had collapsed into Ron's arms and he could see that she was wailing, but all he could hear was the buzzing. He backed himself into the nearest wall and felt his body slide to the floor. He closed his eyes.

_Please not Hagrid_.

He had hoped against it, hoped that the backfired spell hadn't really struck its target…

"Harry," Ron was saying, slicing through the fog.

He opened his eyes and looked up. Ron's face was red and blotchy, his shirt soaked with his own tears and those of Hermione, who was cowering in the fetal position upon the floor.

"Harry, help me with Hermione."

Together, the boys lifted her limp body and, since they were unable to enter the girls' dormitory, hauled her up to their own and laid her in Ron's bed. She had yet to open her eyes once, but she pulled the covers over her head and continued to weep loudly.

Ron sat down at the end of the bed and Harry took a seat on his own. They stared blankly at each other for a few seconds. Then Harry, too, curled up feebly, not bothering to draw the hangings or to change out of his dirty clothes. At that moment, he counted himself very fortunate to not have slept at all the night before, because he avoided his pain by dozing off almost immediately.

He had a horrible dream that Death Eaters, riding monstrous dragons, were storming the castle, blowing fire through the windows. His four-poster bed was burning. Hagrid was there, and his beard was on fire. He was trying to get Harry out of the room, but Harry was looking for the Professor's Pass. He kept telling Hagrid that he couldn't leave without it, until finally, he looked up, and Hagrid wasn't in the room with him anymore. Ron's bed was in flames now too. Then Harry turned to exit the dormitory, but the door was blocked, though he couldn't see the person's face.

He awoke abruptly, soaking in sweat.

It was early morning. Ron was lying face down on the floor, snoring loudly. Hermione was still in his bed, her wavy hair matted to her tear-stained face, her fists beneath her chin, clutching the sheet.

Both Neville and Dean must have gone down already, because their beds were empty.

Harry sat up. His head was aching.

The Death Eaters had come for _him_. He'd been so foolish. And Hagrid had paid the price. If there was ever any death that was Harry's fault, it was Hagrid's. How many more people would he get killed? He stared at his best friends for a long while, knowing that he could lose either or both of them at any time.

Eventually, Ron stirred upon the floor. He stretched, and then groaned, "My back!"

Noticing Harry watching him, he said hesitantly, "Morning?"

"Morning," replied Harry dully.

"My-on-ee," Ron said softly, still half-asleep, as he prodded Hermione gently.

"I'm staying here forever!" she moaned wretchedly, pulling the sheet over her face.

"Let's go down and have something to eat," Ron encouraged her. "It'll help."

Hermione peered out and hissed, "_Nothing_ will help and you know it!"

Ron sank to the floor miserably and then looked at Harry, who shrugged.

"Oh, well, do what you want," she mumbled.

Ron got to his feet and bent down to kiss the small bit of Hermione's head that remained uncovered.

Unexpectedly throwing the sheet from her body, Hermione growled, "Fine, I'll go!"

Ron shook his head uncertainly, but Hermione was already stomping from the dormitory. The two boys followed her down to the Great Hall.

The whole room was solemn, silent, weighted. The three of them sat themselves quietly at the Gryffindor table.

Dean Thomas whispered to them, "Lotta parents came and took kids home in the middle of the night. Place is nearly empty."

Harry looked around. Dean was right. There had never been so few students at Hogwarts, except during the Christmas holidays.

Serving trays heaping with food appeared a few moments later. Scrambled eggs, sausages, and other breakfast items met Harry's eyes, but he couldn't make himself take any of them. He almost felt as if he didn't deserve to eat.

Ron was poking a piece of toast absentmindedly and Hermione was staring, stone-faced, into her empty plate.

The silence in the room was broken by the scooting sound of a chair being pushed back. Professor McGonagall was standing before the room, clearing her throat. She looked exhausted and harassed.

"After last night's tragic events, I have come to the conclusion that we must close the doors of Hogwarts, if only temporarily."

A wave of gasps cycled through the room.

"This afternoon, we will have a ceremony for Professors Sprout and Hagrid, for those of you who wish to attend. Following this, you will all be sent home. Letters have been delivered to your guardians, explaining the situation, and you will be invited to return to Hogwarts if and when the school is reopened."

At this moment, the rushing sound of wings flooded the air as the morning post arrived, just as it did every morning, even though this morning was quite different from all other mornings.

Professor McGonagall blinked at the noise and then, without another word, seated herself again.

The sight of Hedwig gave Harry a small bit of comfort. She landed before him, nibbling his arm affectionately as he untied the heavy envelope.

When he opened it, something fell with a thud onto the table. It was the Professor's Pass! But _how_…? Harry pocked it quickly, looking around to assure that no one had seen it. Not even Ron and Hermione had been paying attention. They were still gazing dejectedly, their eyes unfocused. Harry unfolded the enclosed note.

"_Harry,_

_Minerva told us what happened. I'm SO sorry about Hagrid! I understand that you were close to him. Please give Ron and Hermione my sympathies, as well. And if there's anything that I can do for any of you, please let me know. Really. Anything._

_And I hope that you aren't blaming yourself for any of this, Harry. Terrible things happen, albeit with strange frequency, but they are _not_ your fault. Trust me._

_The Pass was returned to me, but I'm sending it back to you, even if I've been practically _commanded_ not to by a stern woman that we all know so well... I understand that Hagrid was supposed to bring it to me, before it all happened. You'll have to explain to me how you lost track of it._

_Somehow, it's dreary here without your presence. And I'm pretty bored, to tell you the truth, so I hope you'll return soon. But even though the school is supposedly closing for the time being, I have a feeling that I won't be seeing you for a while, so please take care of yourself._

_And I want you to know that I hate the way that we left things._

_-Luci_"

The paper was scattered with dark spots where it seemed that she has crossed out her work and begun again. Perhaps she hadn't known what to say to him about Hagrid. Harry read the letter multiple times before folding it and putting it back into its envelope. As much as he hated himself for it, he missed her. And she was right; he _was_ blaming himself, because _he_ was to blame. He sighed aloud at these thoughts.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron dismally, as if it could be from the Queen herself and it wouldn't matter a bit.

"Luci," Harry answered.

"Did she hear?" Hermione looked worse than Ron, her eyes swollen and somber.

Harry nodded. "Says she's sorry… for all of us…"

"Nice of 'er," Ron said softly.

"And she sent back the Pass."

"Who cares?" said Ron. "We're all going home anyway."

"I'm not," replied Harry.

"What?" Hermione asked, her eyes darting up to his.

"I can't," said Harry. "I have to go into the Chamber again. I can't just overlook a place that may very well be housing a piece of Voldemort's soul."

"Shh!" hissed Hermione.

He looked around. No one seemed to be able to see beyond his or her own little world, so Harry was unconcerned about being overheard.

"If you're staying, so are we," Ron said in monotone, looking to Hermione for approval.

"Fine," she said.

At that moment, all three of them looked up to see Ginny seating herself down the table from them. She kept her head down, with her lovely red hair falling over her face, but Harry imagined that, beneath the curtain, her eyes were as puffy as Hermione's.

His first thought was to go over and comfort her, but as he started to get to his feet, he saw an arm being draped around her shoulders – Neville's arm!

* * *

The funeral for Hagrid and Professor Sprout would be starting any minute. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were racing towards the Owlery in the West tower, so that they could watch the proceedings. They had managed to make their way out of the group, knowing that everyone would be sent home after the service. They needed to remain unseen so that they could stay at the castle. Ron had told Ginny that they didn't intend to leave and she had protested half-heartedly but hadn't seemed to have the energy to try to stop them.

Hermione was leaning into Ron, who had an arm around her, as she wept quietly. Harry wondered if she might run out of tears soon, and then questioned why he, himself, had yet to cry at all. Was it because he was too angry with himself? Or because he felt that he had no right, since he was the reason that Hagrid was dead? Luci didn't know what she was talking about – disaster followed him everywhere he went.

The two of them, standing there together – it made Harry feel very left out. There was no one to comfort him, to hold him, to keep him warm, and he felt miserable and alone. Were he not such a prat, he might have Ginny standing here beside him now. But if that was what he wanted, then why was he imagining Luci's sugary scent?

_Stop thinking about her_, he scolded himself. He had to get Luci out of his head, for the same reason that he'd broken up with Ginny in the first place - he was dangerous to anyone he cared about, or anyone who cared about him. What better proof was there of this than the goings on below the Owlery window?

Below, he could see people gathering around the black tombs that held Hagrid and Professor Sprout. It all felt so final. Yet, there was a part of him that didn't believe that Hagrid was gone. It was the same part of him that just knew, _knew_, that his parents and Sirius and Dumbledore were all still alive. It was _hope_. But Harry knew that hope was hopeless.

"How d'ya think they…" Ron began. Clearing his throat, he continued, "How did they kill _Hagrid_? He seemed so… indestructible… didn't he?"

Hermione, half-choking on tears, responded, "Hagrid might be… might have _been_… larger… than normal, but I think a killing curse works the same on him as it does on anybody else."

Harry sighed aloud. Someone was speaking below the window, but the words were being carried away by the wind. They looked down to see that it was Professor McGonagall.

"There's Madam Maxime," said Harry, pointing. The giantess was wiping her eyes with an enormous handkerchief as she sat in the front of the crowd.

"That poor woman," Hermione sniffled.

Harry noticed Ginny sitting a few rows back. He could barely see her from this height, but she seemed to have her face in her hands. Once again, the urge to comfort her struck him, but he saw that Neville was there, continuing to move in on his territory. Harry gritted his teeth.

He strained his ears to hear anything that might be being said, but it was in vain, so he just watched bleakly, feeling heavy, yet strangely empty at the same time.

McGonagall spoke for a long while, and then various people stood addressing the group, including Mad-Eye Moody, Professor Flitwick, Madam Maxime, and Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minister of Magic. Grawp sat awkwardly in the back of the crowd and made random pitiful noises that Harry could hear very well from all the way up here. At one point, Lupin got to his feet, and it looked as if he might speak, but he quickly sat back down again next to Tonks instead. Quite a few members of the Order were there, in fact. Harry was just wishing that Luci had come too, when an owl hooted loudly above his head, shaking him from his thoughts.

"We should probably go," said Hermione. "We can't hear anything anyway."

Her face was blanched and Harry knew that the real reason that she wanted to leave was because she was tired of crying and needed something to take her mind off of Hagrid.

That weighty emptiness still plaguing him, Harry silently followed Ron and Hermione from the Owlery.

Once in Myrtle's bathroom, they willfully made their way to the sink that they knew housed the Chamber of Secrets. Without wasting any time, Harry identified the tiny snake scratched on the side of the copper tap and hissed, "Open."

The tap glowed with brilliant white light and began to spin as the sink slowly descended out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed.

"What do you think you're doing?" came Myrtle's ethereal voice.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to her, but none of them answered.

"People die when that thing opens," she said in a scolding tone. "Believe me, _I_ know!"

"I killed the Basilisk years ago," Harry told her. "It'll be fine."

Myrtle crossed her arms huffily, snorting, "No good can come of this!" Then she dove headfirst through a wall.

Harry shook his head at Ron and Hermione, who both remained silent, and Harry thought that maybe they agreed with Myrtle. He turned his back to them and slid himself into the shadowy tunnel before they could protest.

He was immediately rushing down the dark, slippery slide of the pipeline, other channels branching out on either side of him as he went. Soon, he felt it leveling out, and he shot from the end of the tube, onto the damp floor. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He stood and was attempting to catch his breath when he heard Hermione screaming, the sounds growing closer and closer. Then, she landed at his feet, followed shortly by Ron.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Ron said to Hermione, who scoffed.

"_That_," said Hermione, "was horrifying."

"Follow me," Harry said to both of them, and they began to make their way towards the Chamber, their footsteps slapping on the wet floor as they walked. Shed snakeskin and small animal bones remained littered on the floor from the days that the Basilisk had occupied the tunnels. The crunching beneath their feet prompted intermittent sounds of disgust from Hermione.

At last, they reached a solid wall with two carved serpents entwined together, their emerald eyes seeming strangely alive. Harry's heart flip-flopped as he was reminded of standing in this same place, only five years ago.

"Open," he said again, in Parseltongue, and the serpents parted, the wall cracking to each side. The halves slid out of sight, much like they did behind the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were greeted by a dimly lit chamber, glowing gloomy green, and full of towering stone pillars, each engraved with serpents.

"This way," said Harry, and they continued past the pairs of pillars, the ceiling above them hidden in darkness, the eerie green glow all around them.

Finally, they reached the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin in his long robes. It stood against a back wall, its giant monkey-like face staring blankly ahead.

Ron and Hermione gasped simultaneously.

"That thing gives me the willies," whispered Ron.

"I feel cold," said Hermione.

Harry didn't respond. He was trying to remember what Riddle had said to the statue in order to open it. He knew that, if there was a Horcrux in the Chamber, it would most likely be hidden in the mouth of Slytherin, where the Basilisk had once resided.

When he'd been standing there for awhile, Ron asked quietly, "Harry?"

"I'm thinking," Harry replied.

The three of them remained there in silence for many minutes longer, until, at last, Harry remembered the correct phrasing of the password.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four," said Harry, a chill running down his spine as he remembered Tom Riddle's command. If Ron and Hermione had been able to understand him, Harry imagined they'd have been just as unsettled by the words.

The stone mouth opened slowly, the long beard lowering as it went, the sound of stone against stone echoing throughout the Chamber. A huge, black hole was revealed, and Harry heard Ron and Hermione stepping backwards in fright.

"I'm going in," he said to them.

"Harry, no!" cried Hermione. Then, more calmly, she said, "We don't know what's in there."

"We're about to find out."

Harry took out his wand, said, "_Lumos_," and started to climb into the stone mouth. It was like being in another tunnel, though he was unable to stand, and he wondered how the Basilisk had slithered through such a narrow space.

Ron and Hermione were crawling along behind him and he smiled to himself. He'd known that he could count on them to follow him anywhere, even if it was to their deaths. This last thought wiped the smile instantly from his face, and he locked his jaw and carried on.

"It smells bloody awful in here," said Ron, who was right behind him.

"What do you expect?" came Hermione's voice from further back. "A big, nasty snake lived in here for who knows how long! It's revolting!"

Eventually, the passageway ended, dropping Harry into a large, rectangular space. He reached his hand out to Ron, pulling him into the room, and then Ron assisted Hermione.

"What _is_ this place?" asked Ron.

"Dunno," answered Harry, who was still looking around in wonder.

The floor was covered with animal bones, the walls with slime, the whole space with an unnatural green glow. But this area was different than the rest of the Chamber. Along the walls, there hung moving pictures, documents, trophies. Harry began to make his way around the room, studying each of the items.

First, there was a portrait of the four founders of Hogwarts. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff sat in chairs, and Gryffindor and Slytherin stood behind them, their arms around one another.

Next, there was a framed certificate stating the official approval of the school to be opened for academics.

Ron and Hermione were following him, also examining each of the hangings.

There were mostly souvenirs of the school's origin, records of its accomplishments, and other mementos. Slytherin had obviously been very proud of Hogwarts. But the last article was a painting of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin standing alone. Gryffindor was shaking Slytherin's hand and giving him a small item. Harry squinted at the rendering.

"The ring!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Ron and Hermione said together.

"It wasn't Slytherin's!"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Gaunt's ring," said Harry again. "Gryffindor _gave_ it to Slytherin!"

He pointed to the pair of founders and Ron and Hermione peered over each of his shoulders.

"Are you sure that's the same ring?" asked Ron.

"Of course, I'm sure! There was a lion on it!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, leaning into the portrait.

"The Peverell Crest," she said.

"It's on Gryffindor's sword too," said Harry. "So the ring wasn't a relic of _Slytherin_! It was a relic of _Gryffindor_! So we have all of the houses – we just have to find that damned cup!"

Ron and Hermione were both looking at him attentively.

"And it's not here," Harry sighed. "Sorry for dragging you two down here."

"Well, it wasn't entirely fruitless," smiled Hermione, "just creepy."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, sorry about that too."

"No need to stay in the creepiness any longer," encouraged Ron.

"Agreed," said Harry, and he lifted himself back into the tunnel.

Ron and Hermione behind him, he started for the light at the mouth's opening.

Was it growing smaller? He frowned.

"The mouth is closing!" he called to his friends. "Hurry!"

He began crawling faster, and he heard Ron and Hermione scuffling along behind him.

Then Hermione screamed.

"What is it?" shouted Harry.

"Her hair!" Ron shouted back.

Harry didn't know why they were yelling in the first place. It must have been the exigency, because it was very quiet in here.

"What about it?" said Harry.

"It's caught!" whimpered Hermione.

"Caught in _what_?"

"I don't know!" she cried.

"Harry, help me!" said Ron.

Harry looked towards the mouth. It was closing _slowly_, but it was definitely closing.

He carefully turned himself around and came face to face with Ron's backside. He scowled.

"It's too narrow," said Harry. "I can't reach to help!"

"Go back!" said Ron. His voice was panicked. "When it closes, just use the password and open it again."

"I have a feeling that won't work, Ronald," replied Hermione.

"Cut it," said Harry.

"Absolutely not!" protested Hermione.

"Cut it, or get stuck in here," Harry repeated.

Hermione made a muffled sound.

Ron reached into his pocket for his wand. "_Diffindo_," he said, and Harry heard a snipping, much like scissors.

"Noooo," moaned Hermione.

"Let's go!" said Harry.

He backed quickly from the tunnel, watching Ron following backwards. His feet reached cooler air and he lowered himself to the floor. There was only a yard or so remaining before the cavity was closed. He could see Ron's shoes emerging.

"Hurry," he said urgently.

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying!"

Ron was out, and the opening was almost entirely blocked. He grabbed Hermione's hands and yanked her as hard as he could, and she toppled to the floor. He helped her up just as the mouth was slamming shut.

Harry almost laughed aloud at Hermione's hair, which was now long and bushy on one side and short and frizzy on the other. He turned away from her so that she wouldn't notice his smile, but she said, "It's not funny," and started for the door.

"We'll fix it!" Ron called after her, but he grinned at Harry, who returned the smile, and then they pursued Hermione back through the Chamber.

She huffed irritably the whole way, so Harry and Ron stayed a few feet behind her. The back of her head, however, was just as amusing as the front, and they had to stifle their sniggers.

They were soon back at the large pipe that led up to Myrtle's sink. At this point, Harry realized that they had no way to get back up it. Last time, Fawkes had been there to fly all of them out.

"Anyone have a broomstick?" he asked satirically.

Hermione glanced sideways at him. "You mean to tell me that we can't get out of here?"

"Well, we _can_, if one of you has a broomstick, or if you'd like to climb up," replied Harry.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, flicking her wand, and then crawled into the large pipe and disappeared.

Ron poked his head in too. "A ladder!" he called to Harry.

"Smart girl, that Hermione," muttered Harry, embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it first.

He followed Ron up the tunnel, pulling himself along the ladder, until he was back in Myrtle's cold bathroom, where the sound of laughter greeted him.

Moaning Myrtle was pointing at Hermione's ridiculous lopsided hair, turning somersaults in the air as she giggled uncontrollably.

Ignoring her entirely, Hermione asked, "What would you two do without me?"

"I don't know about Harry," said Ron, ignoring Myrtle too, "but I'd be miserable."

Hermione grinned warmly at Ron, and Harry said, "Enough of that. Let's go home."

Back in the common room, they realized that Ron and Hermione's trunks had been sent ahead of them, so they gathered beneath the Invisibility Cloak and made their way out of the castle. It was dusk by now, and the skyline was a lovely orangey-red. The Pass seemed to count them all as one person, as long as Ron and Hermione were touching Harry, who had mended the chain and still wore it around his neck.

Once outside the gates, Ron said, "Mum will kill us for not coming back with everyone else."

"Better brace yourself then," suggested Harry.

Then, the three of them Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Spilled Butterbeer

**Chapter Fourteen – Spilled Butterbeer**

A shrieking voice greeted Harry's ears. For a moment, he thought that it was Sirius's mum again, but then, he realized that it was Mrs. Weasley. Though, why wasn't Mrs. Black yelling too? That was odd.

Ron had ended up in another room, while Harry and Hermione were in the entryway. The two of them hurried towards the screaming and found Ron cowering before his mother at the foot of the stairs, his face red and frightened.

"How _dare_ you endanger yourself this way! Just because you're of age!"

Then Mrs. Weasley noticed Harry and Hermione.

"And _you_ two!" she screeched. "You're not my own, but I love you as such, and you continue to have no consideration whatsoever, worrying me incessantly!"

By this time, Mr. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, and Ginny had gathered behind Mrs. Weasley, all of them nodding in agreement and checking to make sure that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had arrived in one piece.

"Oh, Hermione, your hair!" Ginny said wretchedly.

Harry heard the wood above him creak and looked up to see Malfoy and his mother on the second landing, both glaring, as usual. Then Luci's small frame peered over the banister too.

Her eyes met Harry's. They gazed at each other for a moment, and then she smiled slightly, one eyebrow raised, as if testing the water with him. Had it really only been two days since he'd last seen her? Harry had fully intended to return her smile to assure her that things were fine between them, but Mrs. Weasley was pulling him into the kitchen.

"Insensitive, reckless, all of you!" she was carrying on.

Harry was beginning to feel guilt-ridden again, but the fact remained that he _was_ of age, and there were things that needed to be done. How was he supposed to explain that to Mrs. Weasley?

"So?" she demanded, after she'd lined the three of them up in front of her. "Why didn't you come back with Ginny? What could have _possibly_ been more important than your safety after Hogwarts was attacked by Death Eaters and professors were _murdered_?"

Harry swallowed.

"We were curious!" Hermione jumped in.

Harry and Ron both gaped at her.

"We stayed to see if we could figure out how the Death Eaters got in!" she continued. "Last time, Malfoy had let them in through a wardrobe, and we wanted to see if it was still there."

"Why on _earth_ would it even matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. Then she sighed and went on, "Of course, the three of you have always been too nosy for your own good, oh, the trouble you get into…"

Hermione nodded in agreement. Harry was still stunned at how much her lying had improved.

"Well, did you find what you were looking for?" asked Mr. Weasley. Harry had almost forgotten that there had been anyone else in the room.

"No," said Hermione. "So we hurried back as quickly as we could, knowing you'd all be worried."

Mrs. Weasley scoffed, then snapped, "And don't encourage them, Arthur."

"A healthy bit of curiosity never hurt anyone," he replied.

"Please!" groaned Mrs. Weasley. "These three have _always_ found a way to get themselves hurt!"

Then she seemed to realize that this line of accusation was getting her nowhere, so she said, "Well, you're stuck here until the school reopens, so that's enough punishment for you. Hermione, what _are_ we going to do with your hair? What _happened_ to it?"

"I got it caught… in a zipper… and I couldn't get it out, so it had to be cut," Hermione lied.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Go get ready for dinner, then come see me before you sit down to eat."

The three of them, with Ginny tagging along, hurried up to the second landing and shut themselves up in Harry and Ron's room.

"Thanks, Ginny," said Ron. "What'd you tell her when we didn't show up?"

Ginny shrugged. "Said I'd lost you in the commotion to get out of the castle and didn't know where you were. Mum looked as if she might not believe me, but she didn't ask any more questions."

Harry, who suddenly felt very tired, collapsed onto his bed.

"What were you doing, anyway?" asked Ginny.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Oh, I see," huffed Ginny. "I'm always left out."

She appeared as though she might become enraged, so Hermione came to the rescue again, saying, "You knew about Ron and me before anyone else. Harry knows now, but you were the first one in on it!"

"That's only because I walked in on you two snogging," Ginny countered.

"Yes, but still," replied Hermione weakly.

"I'm going to wash up for dinner," Ginny said curtly, and she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Maybe we should tell her," proposed Ron.

"No," said Hermione defeatedly, "Dumbledore said just you and me."

Harry had already disobeyed this, of course, but his best friends didn't know that.

He changed the subject by starting, "Listen, Hermione, Hagrid told Ron and me about a letter that Dumbledore had left for my Aunt and Uncle, and I need to have a look at it. I know we've been imprisoned here, but I need to go to Privet Drive and see if I can find it. Any ideas?"

"What's in the letter?" she asked.

"Hagrid said it was all of the stuff about Voldemort killing my parents and my Aunt and Uncle having to keep me safe. I just want to know what Dumbledore could have said to make them scared enough to put up with me for all those years."

"Well, couldn't we just take the Cloak and go have a look 'round the house?" suggested Ron.

"Too risky," said Harry. "I need a distraction so that I have time to search for it."

Ron laughed.

"What?" Harry and Hermione asked together.

"We could have Hermione hit on Dudley sometime when your Aunt and Uncle are out," said Ron, grinning. "That'd make a good distraction."

Hermione smiled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Ronald, but I don't think that I have a universal appeal."

Then Harry remembered something.

"But you know who _could_ distract Dudley…"

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Luci," answered Harry. "He was practically drooling when she came with your dad to pick me up."

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione, like she always did. "I'm not sure how much we can trust her, and, really, would she even do it?"

"How much do we need to trust her to have her entertain Dudley for awhile? She'd have no reason to sabotage that."

"No, I suppose not…" Hermione said hesitantly. "But he'd wonder why she was there."

Harry thought about this for a moment.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed. "If she came telling Dudley that I was in trouble and she was looking to arrest me, he'd be thrilled to let her in!"

"But Dudley saw her come to pick you up," said Ron, "so why would she be looking for you?"

"I escaped or something."

"But your family would have no idea where you were, so, logically, wouldn't Dudley wonder why she'd look for you there?" Hermione pointed out.

"Right," said Harry, "but Luci could pretend that she doesn't know that, like she thinks I might hide out with relatives or something. And you give Dudders way too much credit. He's pretty thick."

"I'm starving," Ron interrupted. "Let's go eat and talk about this later. We don't even know if she'll do it yet."

"She will," said Harry.

"How do you know?" asked Hermione.

Harry turned his eyes from hers, assuring, "I just know."

* * *

Downstairs, the three of them walked past Luci, who was across from Malfoy and his mother, on their way down the table. She didn't even acknowledge Harry. It made him feel as if his heart had dropped a few inches in his chest. As Harry sat down diagonally from Ginny, he saw that she was now ignoring him too.

Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt had reunited with the group for dinner. They both greeted Harry, Ron, and Hermione with apologies about Hagrid. Lupin joined in with these regrets, recounting a humorous story about how Hagrid had once asked him for help with Buckbeak during his stint as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Everyone laughed warmly, but there was heartbreak in the sound too.

Meanwhile, Hermione had gone to the back of the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley, who was currently trimming her bushy hair with the tip of her wand.

"I could have regrown this," said Mrs. Weasley, "but I think you need a reminder of your bad judgment."

Hermione was whimpering sadly as she watched her locks fall to the floor at her feet.

Tonks was bustling quickly along the table, conjuring Butterbeers. In her haste, she bumped into Malfoy, who glared hatefully at her and accidentally knocked over the glass bottle in front of him. It shattered, spilling amber liquid onto his clothing.

Malfoy stood, jumping back from the table.

"Clumsy," he muttered, with a disgusted look at Tonks, and then he left the room. His mother followed. It was as if neither of the two was courageous enough to be alone with the Order.

Luci leaned across the table and began to pick up the pieces of the bottle.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, dropping a shard of glass and retrieving her hand rapidly. Harry instinctively got to his feet and was immediately beside her before he'd realized how obvious this action had been.

Mad-Eye had also moved towards her. "Let me see."

"No, no, I'm fine," Luci insisted, covering the hand that she had cut. "Really, it's fine."

Harry, who was looking over her shoulder at all of this, saw a drop of blood spill onto the table.

"Let me see it," Mad-Eye said again, firmly.

Luci begrudgingly held out her left palm to him. "There's nothing to see."

She was right. There was blood, but Harry couldn't see a wound.

Mad-Eye looked into Luci's face with a mixture of astonishment and suspicion.

"Just a tiny cut," Luci said coolly, retracting her hand.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Yes, it must have been a _very_ tiny cut.

Tonks was apologizing profusely.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Luci replied. "Sometimes I forget that there's magic for these things."

Mad-Eye, still looking doubtful, said to Luci, "You'd better get that cleaned up."

She nodded and hurried from the room.

Harry watched her go, noticing her long hair billowing behind her, and smiling dreamily in spite of himself.

"So _that_ must make things confusing," Mad-Eye murmured to him knowingly.

"Sorry?"

"Miss Keegan there."

Harry felt himself growing hot, but countered, "I don't know what you're talking about," and went back to his seat at the table.

"What got into you, Harry?" asked Hermione, who had joined Ron. Her hair was very short, hardly past her ears now, but it did look tremendously better than it had before Mrs. Weasley had cut it.

Harry's face was still flushed, but he replied nonchalantly, "Just wanted to make sure she wasn't hurt."

Hermione was frowning at him and Ron wore a surprised expression. Ginny had moved down the table, near her mother, and was refusing to look at any of them.

"She's still mad at us for keeping secrets from her," muttered Ron, nodding his head towards Ginny. "But she'll get over it."

Hermione sighed. "I _hate_ this. I can't wait until this whole thing is over!"

"No pressure, Harry," grinned Ron.

"Right," Harry smiled back.

"Oh, my poor hair," Hermione was whining.

"You look beautiful," Ron assured her, and she forced a smile, though she seemed thoroughly depressed.

"Yeah, it's fine," agreed Harry.

"_Fine_?" she sighed. "Oh, everything is just awful! My hair is ruined and the school is closed and we'll have to repeat our seventh year and Ginny is mad at us!"

"There are worse things," said Harry glumly.

Hermione stopped and looked at him. "Yes, of course, there are. I'm sorry."

He shrugged.

Tonks was tidying up the spilled Butterbeer with her wand, while Lupin tried to reassure her that she might be clumsy, but she was lovely, nonetheless. She didn't seem to be encouraged by this. In fact, she tripped inelegantly before she'd finished the cleaning (on what they'd later discover was a piece of the glass that had fallen), and upon standing again, ran from the room with tears in her eyes.

* * *

That night, Harry was staring at the ceiling again. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, because he was actually quite exhausted, but he was toying with the notion of going to the drawing room, in hopes that Luci might have the same idea. He envisioned himself entering the room, and in his mind, she smiled at him, telling him that she'd missed him. At the thought, his heart began to race.

Harry sighed and pushed the image from his mind, focusing instead on the ceiling above him. The cracks looked deeper, if possible, than they had before. He put on his glasses, but he didn't move from his position on his back. Yes, the fractures in the ceiling were longer and more pronounced.

He lay there for a while, arguing with himself, before putting the glasses on the stand beside him again and rolling onto his side. It was unlikely that Luci would be in the drawing room anyway.

It wasn't long before he'd drifted to sleep. He dreamt that Voldemort had found his way into Grimmauld Place. Tonks had hidden Harry in Kreacher's cupboard in the kitchen. He was sitting there alone, listening to the screaming of the people that he loved as Voldemort was killing them. Yet, he made no effort to rescue them. He felt tired and helpless. Then, Mrs. Weasley came for him. She told him that she was going to cut his hair off, so that no one would recognize him. She took her wand to his head and said that he had always had very bad judgment. When Harry was nearly bald, Mrs. Weasley seized his hand and led him from the kitchen, but Voldemort spotted them. Harry recalled wondering why Mrs. Weasley had taken him from the cupboard when he was unlikely to be found there. The last thing that he remembered before he awoke was Mrs. Weasley's command, "Run, Harry!"

* * *

"It's Saturday," Harry said, a few days later. "I have to ask her today, because my Aunt and Uncle always go out to brunch. I won't have another guaranteed chance until next week."

Ron was getting dressed to go down to breakfast.

"You really think Luci will help you without asking any questions?" he asked. "No one's _that_ uninterested!"

"I'm not worried," replied Harry.

"How're you gonna get her alone without Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"_That's_ a better question." Harry didn't know the answer himself.

When they joined her in the kitchen, Hermione was equally doubtful about Luci's participation. Harry was beginning to become annoyed with the both of them. He didn't know why they were so opposed to her. Hermione was carrying on about how it was dangerous for Harry to be alone with Luci and how either she or Ron should go along too, just in case.

As always, Luci entered the room with Malfoy and his mother, and the three of them sat together, a bit separated from everyone else. And, as always, Narcissa ate silently, while Luci and Malfoy laughed together. Harry continued to find this one of the oddest things he'd ever seen, and this was quite a statement, because he did live in the Wizarding world, after all.

Harry waited until the three of them stood to leave the kitchen. Then he walked towards Luci, who watched him as he approached, as if she thought that he might continue right past her. When, instead, he stopped before her and said, "Can I talk to you?" the expression on her face clearly implied that she was surprised that he was speaking to her at all.

"What could you possibly have to say to her?" spat Malfoy.

"That's none of your business," Harry replied.

"She doesn't want to talk to you, do you, Luci?" continued the sneering boy.

"Of course, she doesn't," Narcissa agreed.

Luci, silent, seemed to be trying to figure out a way to talk to Harry without it appearing that they were friends.

Finally, she said, "I have better things to do, so make it quick."

"_What_?" Malfoy sputtered.

"Go ahead. I'll be right up," Luci said to him.

Malfoy pouted, but then said, "I wouldn't associate with that kind of riff raff, if I were you."

"You're a prat," said Harry casually, as though he was commenting on the weather.

"Who asked you, Potter?" Malfoy said, retrieving his wand.

"Put it away, Draco," Luci scolded.

Malfoy ignored her and, instead, addressed Harry. "Why don't you just stay away from her, huh? Keep with your own kind?"

Harry scowled. "Did I miss someone putting you in charge, Malfoy? We're not at Hogwarts and you're not a Prefect here."

The Slytherin made a menacing jolt.

"I'll only be a minute," Luci coaxed him.

At this, Narcissa took her son's elbow and said, "Let's go, Draco."

Malfoy glanced at Luci, and then glowered at Harry. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He pocketed his wand and continued past them.

Looking back at Harry, Luci sighed, "Sorry about him."

"I'm used to it," Harry shrugged.

"That's no excuse."

"Why are you apologizing for him?"

"Eh, _someone_ should apologize for him. And I didn't mean the 'make it quick' thing, you know."

"I know," smiled Harry. Then he nodded towards the door of the kitchen and she walked with him until they were out of earshot in the hallway.

"How's your hand?"

It was dim, but he noticed that her cheeks flushed. She put both of her hands behind her back and responded, "It's healing well, thank you," in a very odd, formal tone.

Harry shook his head. Sometimes, she was so weird.

"Listen, I need your help."

"I thought we weren't friends anymore?" Luci replied.

"I never said that!" said Harry, stunned.

"You left here acting like I was the worst person _ever_ and then you didn't respond to my letter and you haven't talked to me since you got back. It's been _days_. What am I supposed to think?"

He frowned. "I've been a little busy."

"Oh," she said tartly.

"I appreciated the letter, especially the Pass, but I had things to do. You know that."

"OK."

He raised his eyebrows at her. Why was she being this way?

"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh, but she didn't explain herself. "I just thought, after the way you left, and then I hadn't heard from you, and I was… worried, I guess, and…"

"Luci, I told you, I just don't like people hiding things from me," he interrupted.

"There are things that _you_ don't tell _me,_" Luci countered.

"Like what?"

"Like, you told me about Voldemort's orphanage, but you were gone for two days, so I know that there was something else, but I never demanded that you tell me. And, oh, let's talk about Ginny. That always seems to derail you. What's going on _there_?" Luci nodded towards the kitchen, where they both knew the pretty ginger-haired girl sat with her ginger-haired parents along the table.

Harry blushed and turned his eyes to the floor.

"That's what I thought. And you and Ginny has nothing to do with me, so I don't need to know. Do you get it? Does that make sense to you? There are just some things–"

"Fine," he muttered, cutting across her words.

Luci exhaled wearily, obviously quelling her emotions. "So what is it that you need?"

"I need you to come with me to get something at my Aunt and Uncle's house."

"I can't leave," she scoffed, as if this was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

"You leave all the time!" Harry said, in an elevated whisper.

She averted her gaze. "I can't just go _anywhere_."

"Why not?"

She hesitated and then answered slowly, "There are people who can't know that I'm here."

Harry wanted to ask her exactly what she'd meant, but he had to focus on getting that letter.

"We'll take the Invisibility Cloak. No one'll see us."

Luci gaped at him. "You have an Invisibility Cloak?"

He nodded.

"I don't know, Harry…"

She sounded like Hermione, and it made him want to shake her.

"Please, Luci. You're the only one who can get me in."

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," he said, before he could prevent the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

Luci raised an eyebrow, and Harry was sure he'd never been more mortified.

"I mean… Dudley thinks so," he stammered. "I… I saw the way he looked at you when you came to get me with Mr. Weasley. You'll be able to get us in."

"_Dudley_ thinks so?" she repeated softly, her voice engulfed in what Harry thought might be pain.

"Yeah," he said, and then he looked down at his hands, wishing that the heat would just go away. Of course, thinking about it made him feel even hotter, so he just started wishing that she'd speak instead.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Well, _Dudley_ must be out of his mind."

Harry didn't have time for this.

"Will you help me or not?" he asked impatiently.

For some reason, she looked like she might be sick, but she said aggressively, "You can't crawl through a window or something?"

He was beginning to get frustrated. "No! I need to get Dudley there alone and then I need you to distract him so that I have time to search the house. Can you do that?"

Luci took a deep breath. "All right."

"You'll come?"

She nodded. "But we have to Apparate and we can't be seen. And we can't be gone long."

"Right," Harry said. "Let's go then."

"_Now_?"

"Yes, now. I can't really do anything in a leisurely fashion, under the circumstances."

She glared. "No need to be sarcastic."

"Sorry. You're just making things difficult."

"I'm a difficult girl."

He sighed. "No, you're not. I didn't mean it like that."

"How do you know that… what's his name? Dudley? How do you know he'll be there alone?"

"On Saturdays, my Aunt and Uncle always go out for brunch and Dudders watches the telly."

"And what am I supposed to tell _Dudders_ to get us in there?"

Harry had planned this out and had decided that it would definitely work. "Tell him that you're looking to arrest me for some horrible thing and you need someone who will testify to my awfulness."

"_What_?"

"Trust me. He'll love it and be very cooperative. I'll be under the Cloak; he won't even know I'm there."

"What are we looking for anyway?" asked Luci.

"A letter, from Dumbledore to the Dursleys."

Luci tilted her head to one side. "I need to tell Draco I'm going."

"Why?"

"Because he'll worry."

Harry laughed. "_Malfoy_? Worry?"

Luci frowned at him.

"Look, just don't tell him where we're going," sighed Harry.

"I won't. If he knew I was going anywhere with _you_, he'd kill us both."

It sounded as if Luci was joking, but Harry knew that it wasn't entirely unlikely that Malfoy would do just that.

"OK, I'll meet you in the alley near the house," said Harry.

Luci nodded and headed for the stairs.

Harry, avoiding Ginny's gaze, poked his head into the kitchen to give Ron and Hermione a nod that said he'd been successful. Then, when he was sure that no one could see him, he Disapparated.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: 24 Hours Missing

**Chapter Fifteen – Twenty-Four Hours Missing**

Harry had been waiting in the passageway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk for quite a while now. He was leaning against the wall, starting to think that Luci wasn't coming. She had been mad at him for not staying in touch with her. Could that mean that she just wanted to keep track of him? When he listened to his intuition, it told him that he could trust her, but he would give anything to be able to read her, to know for sure.

Luci appeared beside him a few minutes later.

"Sorry that took so long," she said, sounding breathless, as if she'd been running.

"How's Malfoy?" Harry asked sardonically.

"Cheeky as ever, thinks you're up to no good, chastised me for even speaking to you. You know, the usual." Luci glanced up at him with a lighthearted expression.

He felt his breath catch. She had done herself up for this role, and she looked impressive. She had always been pretty, though not excessively so, but _this_ was an inebriating façade.

"You're trying too hard," said Harry, grinning.

"You can never try _too_ hard," she replied, gazing at him with an expression that he couldn't decipher.

They were both silent for a moment. Then Luci said, "Harry, are we OK?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem like you're angry with me."

He took a deep breath. She stripped his defenses, and he couldn't understand it. The loss of control unnerved him.

"Yeah, we're OK," he assured her.

She seemed to exhale in relief.

Harry took out the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over their heads. Since Luci was much shorter than he was, he had to wrap his arm around her to keep his own feet hidden. He could feel the heat of her body so close to his and he couldn't shake the tension in his stomach.

They walked slowly towards number four, Harry hoping that Dudley would, indeed, be there alone.

"Why did you think I was mad at you?" asked Harry.

"All of the reasons that I said before," Luci answered. "We hadn't talked in days. It was… bizarre."

"There's a lot going on."

She tipped her head in agreement. "There always seems to be. Is it Hagrid?"

Harry didn't respond, as it suddenly felt as if a stone had been dropped into his stomach.

Luci sighed heavily, and then she pressed herself into him in a kind of half-hug, saying, "I wish I knew how to make it better."

He wasn't sure how to respond to this, so he said, "It's not your job to make it better for me."

Then, they both lapsed into an awkward silence.

Finally, he said, "It's Ron and Hermione," though that was only a very small part of the unrelenting pain that plagued him without respite.

"What is?"

"What's been bothering me."

"Oh," she nodded.

"I caught them… kissing," Harry said, softly.

Abruptly altering the mood, Luci stifled a laugh. "Hmm," she said.

"It's not funny!"

"No, of course not," she grinned.

Harry frowned.

"I'm sorry you're upset, but I could see that coming a mile away!"

She must have discerned the look on his face, because she said, "Oh, Harry, don't feel guilty. You're dealing with far more than anyone should have to. It's not your fault that you didn't notice your best friends falling in love right under your nose."

"In love?" He stopped walking.

"Yes, I think so." She stopped too, hindered by the Cloak.

He gaped at her.

She laughed. "It happens!"

Harry took a deep breath as they both started up walking again.

"They're still your best friends," Luci continued. "You dated Ron's _sister_. That's pretty huge and everyone survived that, didn't they? You and Ginny seem to be widely accepted now."

Harry nodded. He felt his nerves tighten. He still didn't want to talk about Ginny with Luci.

"So you'll get used to this too," she concluded.

"I guess," Harry agreed.

"Why haven't you talked to _them_ about this?" Luci asked him.

"I usually go to Ron and Hermione with my problems, but considering that they _were_ the problem…"

She smiled. "I'm always happy to listen. Well, here we are."

They were now standing on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive.

Harry rang the doorbell, and they listened for Dudley's heavy footsteps. Luci was tapping her foot nervously. When he heard his cousin's hand on the doorknob, Harry pulled the Cloak from Luci's body and made sure that he was still covered.

Dudley opened the door hesitantly, wearing his Smeltings sweater again.

"Whatever it is, we don't want any," he snapped.

"Hello, Dudley." Luci's smile was so charming that, for a moment, Harry, himself, couldn't breathe.

Dudley stared open-mouthed at her. He was moving his lips, as if to speak, but nothing was coming out.

"Remember me?" she asked sweetly.

He nodded and made a gurgling noise. Harry had to try very hard not to laugh aloud at his cousin.

Luci was still grinning brightly. "Mind if I come in?"

Dudley made a new choking sound and stepped out of the way.

Luci glided past him, and Harry followed close at her heels, though he needn't have. Dudley was so distracted that he left the front door wide open and dreamily pursued her into the sitting room.

Harry stood just outside, so that he could go upstairs when he felt that it was safe.

Luci seated herself casually, as though she visited here often. She patted the space beside her and gestured to Dudley. He sidled up to the sofa and perched himself on the very edge.

Sweeping the hair alluringly from her face, Luci put a hand on Dudley's knee, which caused the frumpy boy to slide abruptly to the floor. He hastily climbed back up, his face purple with embarrassment. Harry sniggered quietly beneath the Cloak.

He found Luci's charade entirely unnecessary. Dudley had probably never had this much attention from a female in his life, and Luci could have been hideous, and he still would have fallen at her feet.

"Now, Dudley," Luci began, "I need your help."

This was the first time that Dudley had managed to speak. "W-with w-what?"

"Well…" she said silkily, "it's a matter of vast importance, so I need to know that you'll keep this just between the two of us."

Dudley's fat cheeks wobbled as he nodded.

As much as Harry wanted to continue watching this amusing scene, it seemed that Luci had things under control. He tore his eyes away and quietly saw himself upstairs to his Aunt and Uncle's bedroom.

Without wasting a moment, he began to search the room, peering into Aunt Petunia's trinket box, the closet, the drawers, and even under the mattress. He didn't discover anything even remotely interesting, however, so he glanced around to make sure that everything was as he'd found it, and then he tried Dudley's room.

The place was a disaster, with underwear and socks strewn on the floor. Harry imagined that Aunt Petunia had tidied it up this morning, as was her routine, so this must be only the mid-morning's mess. He grimaced and looked everywhere he could think to look for the letter, but found nothing.

Back in the hall, he saw that it had been almost half an hour since he'd left Luci with Dudley. He had to search the other rooms quickly.

The spare bedroom was the emptiest of all of them, the drawers and closet entirely vacant. Next, he hunted through the bathroom, in the medicine cabinet, under the sink. Finally, he tried his own room, though he knew it wouldn't be there.

Halfway through searching his own closet, Harry remembered something. There was a safe in the kitchen! He'd never seen anyone go into it, but he _had_ seen a key in Aunt Petunia's trinket box just a few moments ago…

He hurried back down the hall and retrieved the key. Then, he crept quietly down the stairs, past where Luci and Dudley sat together on the sofa, and into the kitchen.

The tiny silver box opened with no difficulty when Harry inserted the key. Inside, he found a few valuable jewels, some documents, and…

"Aha!" he whispered aloud.

The first article was a love poem that Uncle Vernon had written to Aunt Petunia. Harry gagged before shoving it back into the safe.

The second piece of paper that he unfolded was Dudley's birth certificate. This, too, he returned to its place.

Then he came across a letter with a Hogwarts seal. It was from Dumbledore, warning Aunt Petunia that Harry would be returning for the summer before his seventeenth birthday. It was recent, and must have been written shortly before Dumbledore's death. Harry ignored the pain in his chest and pocketed the letter.

Next, he found what he'd come here for in the first place.

"_Dear Petunia_," it read, and Harry thought it odd that Dumbledore would address his Aunt by her first name.

"_It is my regret to inform you that your sister and her husband, Mr. James Potter, have been murdered by a very dark wizard who goes by the name of Lord Voldemort. It is highly possible that you, also, along with your family, may be in danger. However, I believe that the same thing that protected Lily's son, Harry, can also protect you. Therefore, I am sending Harry to live with you. This will ensure his safety, which will, in turn, ensure the safety of you and your family. Please inform Harry, when he is old enough, that his parents died bravely, and that they loved him very much. They are buried near your parents, and I hope that you'll take him to visit. When Harry reaches the age of eleven, he may attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, assuming that he is, indeed, capable of magical ability. We will send word when the time comes. I will be in touch as the need arises. Please do not hesitate to contact me if I can be of any assistance._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore_

_Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_"

Harry was busy pushing back tears, but then he noticed that the date of the letter read November 2nd, 2:33am. Weren't his parents killed on Halloween night? Wouldn't he have arrived at the Dursleys' the following day, November 1st? There were twenty-four hours missing. Had he been in Godric's Hollow alone for twenty-four hours?

He'd figure this out later. He folded the letter and put it into his pocket with the first one. Then he quickly shuffled through the pile to find anything with a Hogwarts seal. He found one additional envelope, and then he returned the remaining papers to the safe.

After hastily putting the key back in its place in the trinket box, Harry came downstairs again. He was just in time to hear Dudley telling Luci how Harry was terribly ugly and smelly. He tapped lightly on Luci's shoulder to signal that he'd found what he'd needed. She only jumped slightly before nodding to him. Then he went to the front entrance to wait for her.

"Well, Dudley, I think I have enough," he heard Luci say.

She appeared around the corner, Dudley waddling quickly behind her.

"Can't you stay?" asked Dudley eagerly. "I have tea and cakes. Anything you want."

"Thank you, but I really can't."

Dudley looked very disappointed. Harry knew that he wasn't used to not getting what he wanted.

"You've been _very_ helpful, though," Luci said to him.

"B-but…" stammered Dudley, "I need your help too."

Luci turned to him, an expression of curiosity on her face. "With what?"

Dudley looked as if he'd swallowed a bee. He shook his head.

"It's OK," said Luci warmly. "You can tell me."

She was doing such a marvelous job of acting that it actually frightened Harry. A horrible sick feeling presented itself in his mind, but it flew right back out again when he heard the next thing from Dudley's mouth.

"Harry did something to me."

Harry's mouth fell open, but no one saw this, of course.

Luci was intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Dudley gulped and continued to appear hesitant.

When he hadn't said anything for a few moments, Luci stated, "Well, I can't help you, then."

"No, wait!" exclaimed Dudley.

Luci nodded patiently.

"I keep having nightmares…" Dudley began.

Luci raised an eyebrow. "And how did _Harry_ cause this?"

Dudley licked his lips, as if he still wanted to reconsider telling Luci all of this, but then he said, "It started when he attacked me in an alley a few years ago."

"Harry _attacked_ you?"

Dudley nodded.

Harry was growing angry. He'd have to explain to Luci about the Dementors.

"Now I can't stop having nightmares."

"And what are you having nightmares about?" Luci asked in a concerned voice.

Dudley's eyes flew shut. He was taking deep breaths, his massive chest rising and falling.

"I keep seeing my mum… w-with a… a… one of those w-wand thingies… and she's waving it around and chanting something… but nothing's happening and she's mad and yelling…"

Luci was listening silently to this, and Dudley still had his eyes closed. Harry's heart was pounding. Was his Aunt Petunia a witch? It certainly wouldn't be far-fetched.

Finally, Luci asked, "Did this actually _happen_ to you, Dudley?"

Dudley opened his eyes and nodded. "When I was six."

"And has it happened since?"

Dudley shook his head. "Only in my nightmares."

Luci was chewing on her right thumbnail in thought.

"Can you make them go away?" pleaded Dudley.

Luci looked up at him sympathetically. "No, I can't. I'm sorry. But they'll go away on their own, with time."

"They will?" Dudley asked hopefully.

"Yes, I think so."

Dudley smiled in relief. Then his expression turned to anger and he growled, "I hope you do catch my nasty cousin and put him away for what he's done to me, and to loads of others, probably."

Before he could stop himself, Harry lunged forward in fury. At this moment, Dudley squealed like a stuck pig and jumped back three feet, pointing frantically at the floor and mumbling nonsense.

Luci and Harry both followed his finger. Harry's right trainer was sticking out from under the Invisibility Cloak. He really was getting too tall for it.

Luci swore under her breath.

Dudley was still shrieking incoherently.

"Calm down!" commanded Luci, and Dudley ceased instantly.

Harry, who had gotten what he needed and wasn't the least bit afraid of Dudley, tore off the Cloak.

"Hi Big D."

Dudley wailed, turned a bright shade of magenta, and sprung at Harry. He threw a fist into Harry's jaw, and Harry heard it crack. Pain seared through the side of his head and he groaned loudly.

Suddenly, Luci had flown Dudley into the air and pinned him against the wall, her wand pointed at his throat. He was looking terrified and had his hands up in surrender.

She was glaring at him. "Now that wasn't very nice," she hissed.

Dudley shook his head in panicked agreement.

Then, strangely, Luci slammed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, standing there in silence for a moment, though Harry couldn't imagine what she was doing. He was about to ask her if she was all right when she appeared to return to the present, opening her eyes slowly. He saw that they were misty with tears.

"I'm sorry, Dudley," she said calmly, but sternly. "Harry is very important in our world. I can't have you hitting him. Do you understand?"

Dudley nodded obediently.

Harry realized that he could now use magic outside of Hogwarts, but it was much too exciting to watch Luci defending him. He got to his feet, but continued to observe silently.

"Now, I think that we can forget that this ever happened, yes?"

Dudley nodded again.

"Good. I appreciate it."

Luci slowly lowered Dudley back onto his feet and backed away. The chubby boy was pressing himself into the wall and didn't dare move.

"_Episkey_," said Luci, turning her wand to Harry. He felt his jaw click back into place and the pain subside.

"The Cloak, Harry."

Harry threw it over the two of them.

Then Luci called behind her, "Thanks again, Dudley, and don't worry about those nightmares."

She and Harry stepped outside together and shut the door behind them, leaving the shocked Dudley staring after them.

"That went well," Luci grumbled sarcastically.

"Sorry."

She shook her head but didn't say anything. She was looking down, checking to make sure that they were both completely covered.

"Are you OK?" she asked him. The sullen mood conveyed in her voice was very different from anything he'd heard out of her before, and he wondered what had caused it.

"Yeah. Thanks," he replied, and since he could feel her trembling against him, he added, "Are you cold?"

"What? No. Why?"

"You're shivering."

"Oh," she replied slowly, but then she lapsed into silence without another word. He got the indication that she was in a foul mood, so they walked on without speaking to one another.

After a few minutes, Harry remembered that he was carrying the Professor's Pass in his pocket, so he said, "Oh, here!" and handed it to Luci.

"Thanks," she said dully. Then she seemed to force herself into normal conversation and asked, "So your aunt's a witch, eh? You never told me that."

"I didn't _know_," replied Harry.

She shrugged. "Maybe she's not. Maybe she _wants_ to be. Dudley made it sound like she couldn't do magic."

Harry tried to look back throughout his childhood, but he couldn't recall Aunt Petunia ever showing any signs of magical ability. In fact, she had always appeared to loathe magic. Was it just an act?

"So you found the letter?" continued Luci, still sounding strangely despondent.

"Yes," Harry replied, only just recalling.

"Notice how I didn't demand to know what was in it," she said, her voice now becoming teasing.

"Yeah, yeah," he responded. "Hey, thanks for your help. You were brilliant! Sounded as if you really cared about fat old Diddykins."

Luci glanced sideways at him. "I _did_ care."

Harry gaped at her. Of course, she would. She was sympathetic to _Malfoy_, of all people, and Dudley wasn't half as bad as all that.

"I don't understand you," he said. "Besides, you _threw_ him!"

"Only because he hit you. And you can't help but pity a boy like that," she sighed. "He seemed really tortured by those nightmares."

"He deserves a lot worse, believe me."

She smiled faintly. "Sometimes, you have to put yourself in someone else's shoes. Just because a person has treated you badly doesn't mean that they don't deserve any compassion."

He looked at her incredulously before replying, "And I didn't attack him. It was Dementors."

"That explains a lot. I wouldn't have pinned you as the attacking type," said Luci.

"I'm not."

"Poor kid," she muttered, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"What do you think they feed him?"

He laughed.

They had reached the alley between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, whereupon, at the count of three, they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

In the entryway, where they landed, they were greeted by Ginny, who looked livid, her face almost as cherry colored as her hair.

"Where the bloody hell have you been with _her_?"


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Possession

**Chapter Sixteen – Possession**

Harry gaped at Ginny, who stood before him, her features contorted in fury, her hands on her hips.

They were still under the Cloak. Harry glanced at Luci, who looked at him anxiously and then drew her mouth into a thin line.

"I know you're both under that sodding Cloak!" seethed Ginny. "I heard you Apparate!"

Harry, remembering to take his arm from around Luci, pulled the Invisibility Cloak from their heads.

Luci's face was as red as Ginny's. "I'll leave you two alone," she muttered, and she left the entry, nearly knocking into a portrait in her haste.

"_Well_?" Ginny demanded.

"It's nothing!" said Harry. And even though it _was_ nothing, Harry felt entirely culpable.

"If it's nothing, then you can tell me where you took her, can't you?"

"Ginny, will you calm down?" pleaded Harry.

"Give me a reason to calm down!"

"I needed to get this letter from my Aunt and Uncle's house," explained Harry, retrieving the envelopes from his pocket as proof. "Luci came with me to distract Dudley so that I could look for it."

"Why couldn't you take Ron or Hermione to distract him?" asked Ginny, still irate.

It was a very good question, one that Harry did not want to answer.

He hesitated, which seemed to infuriate Ginny even more, so he spewed, "Dudley has a crush on her."

She narrowed her eyes. "And what about _you_?"

Harry simply was _not_ going to answer that one, so he just gawked at her.

"There's nothing special about her, you know," fumed Ginny.

"Why are you so jealous all the sudden? You don't see me yelling at you for hanging all over Neville!"

Ginny gasped. "_Neville_ has been there for me when there's been no sign of _you_! There's nothing going on between us, but he's been a good friend to me. That's more than I can say about _you_."

Harry was enraged now too. "Neville wants to be more than just _mates_ with you, in case you're too thick to see it, so don't pretend to have some innocent friendship with him!"

"At least we're not sneaking around together!" countered Ginny.

"Hey, what's going on out here?"

It was Mr. Weasley. He had poked his head out from the basement kitchen.

"What are you two doing in the entryway, yelling like an old married couple?" he asked.

Ginny huffed angrily. Then, without another word, she traipsed past her father and out of sight.

"Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley. "Having a row with my daughter?"

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Everything's fine."

Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows. "Too many secrets around here. You're lucky I don't tell Molly you were slinking out again."

Harry just stared at him.

"Harry, you're an adult now, and I trust you to make good decisions," Mr. Weasley continued in a fatherly tone. "Just don't go proving me wrong now, all right?"

"All right," said Harry.

He stood in the entry alone for a long time, trying to calm down. Ginny had not been herself, and this worried Harry. The last thing that he wanted to do was hurt her. Whether they ended up back together or not, he wanted her in his life. She was his best friend's sister, after all.

The only thing to do was apologize, so he started towards her room. But when he'd reached the first landing, he heard someone shouting directly above him. He stood outside Ginny's door and listened as hard as he could.

"Tell the truth!" came Malfoy's voice.

"That _is_ the truth!" replied Luci.

"You're lying! I heard Weasley's sister say you'd gone somewhere with Potter!"

Luci was either silent, or she said something so quietly that Harry couldn't hear it.

"Explain yourself!" seethed Malfoy.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Draco! I'll go where I please!"

"But POTTER?" Malfoy snarled. "I deserve to know why you're consorting with the enemy!"

Harry had known that Malfoy would be possessive of Luci, but he hadn't expected such an uproar. His first thought was to barge in and defend her, but he had to make it up with Ginny.

He knocked on the door that stood before him. Hermione answered.

"She's upset, Harry," she whispered.

"I know. I came to apologize."

Hermione smiled approvingly. "So who's yelling upstairs?"

"Malfoy," said Harry.

"He's wound tight. Did you get the letter?"

Harry nodded.

"And did you visit your parents' graves?"

His mouth fell open. "I forgot!"

Hermione tilted her head exasperatedly and opened the door to allow him in. Then, she gave him a significant look before she exited the room, leaving Harry and Ginny alone together.

Ginny's back was turned to him, and she sat on her bed, facing the window. Harry thought that he heard her sniffle quietly. His stomach was in knots, but he didn't know why. It was the same odd feeling that he'd had at the Wizengamot, when he was awaiting his trial.

"I'm really sorry, Ginny," he began.

She didn't say anything, but she turned her face towards him. She'd been crying, but Harry thought to himself that she was still very beautiful.

"I didn't mean that stuff about Neville."

She nodded. "So you _don't_ like Luci?"

Harry hesitated. He didn't know how he felt about Luci. He just knew that he felt _something_. Something like… _like_. But he replied, "No."

Ginny smiled. "I'm sorry too, for screaming at you."

"I really had only gone to get the letter," said Harry. "I just needed some help, that's all."

"But why _her_?"

"What's wrong with her?" frowned Harry.

"She's… strange… and she hangs out with Malfoy. They're yelling up there like a couple of gits."

"You're right about that," Harry agreed, grinning, "but Dudley is fond of her, and she diverted him long enough for me to search the house."

"What's in the letter?" asked Ginny, nodding towards his pocket.

"It's from Dumbledore. Just the stuff about my parents being killed. Nothing new."

"Then why did you need it?"

Harry shrugged. "I thought it might be important, but I was wrong."

Ginny nodded, and then she just looked at him for a few moments.

"What?" he asked.

"Are we going to get back together?"

Surprised by her frankness, Harry spluttered, "Uh…"

"Because, if we're not, I'd rather you tell me now."

"I don't know if I'm even going to be _alive_ at the end of all this," he stammered.

"Don't say that!" scolded Ginny.

He sighed. "I don't know if we have a future. I wish I did, but I don't."

"Do you _want_ us to?" she asked, and her eyes were diffident, as though she feared his answer.

"What kind of question is that?" He had a sudden impulse to run for his life.

Ginny shrugged, her fiery hair falling over her shoulders and into her face.

Harry shook his head, muttering, "Look, I can't do this right now."

"OK."

"OK," he said, and he left the room without another word.

* * *

Days upon days turned into weeks upon weeks. Mrs. Weasley was keeping close watch on everyone, making sure that people weren't leaving Grimmauld Place, "for their own safety," she said. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still dueling together, as well as trying to figure out where the remaining Horcruxes might be. Ginny spent a lot of time with them, but she was often very taciturn. It reminded Harry of the years when she had had a crush on him and had been afraid to speak to him. She hadn't mentioned their conversation again, but Harry had a feeling that he wasn't off the hook. Ultimately, he would have to face her, one way or the other.

The third letter from the Dursleys safe had also been from Dumbledore, dated shortly before that fateful Halloween night, warning Aunt Petunia that Voldemort was out for the Potters, and that she and her family should be on their guard, just in case. Ron and Hermione, having read all of the correspondence, agreed that there was nothing important to be found. Both of them seemed to think that the twenty-four hour gap in time was of no significance whatsoever, but Harry continued to feel that it was very crucial, indeed. He just didn't know how or why.

Harry hadn't talked to Luci since their visit to Privet Drive. It seemed to him that she was leaving fairly often again, as she would show up late for meals. Despite the desire, he hadn't attempted to meet her in the drawing room. He didn't want to give Ginny any more reason to be angry with him.

It was now mid-November, and Harry's whole body had begun to tense up at the sheer boredom and discomfort of the place. Everyone seemed to be feeling claustrophobic, gloomy, burdened. Harry thought that they could all do with some fresh air, but Mrs. Weasley forbid it. Her overprotective tendencies were getting on Harry's nerves, but he tried to remember that she did it all out of love.

One afternoon, as Harry and Ron sat playing a tedious game of chess, Hermione strolled into their bedroom, wearing a wide grin.

"I have a surprise for the two of you," she announced.

Ginny appeared at Hermione's side, looking equally self-satisfied.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"Well, I was going to wait until Christmas, but considering how terribly dull it is around here, I thought you might like your gift now."

"Please tell me it's duplicate versions of all of us, so that we can leave this place and Mum'll never know," begged Ron.

Hermione smiled. "How would the two of you like to play Quidditch?"

Harry and Ron were both instantly on their feet.

"How?" asked Harry.

"Follow us," Ginny answered.

Hermione and Ginny led Harry and Ron to the third landing of Grimmauld Place and through a door that Harry couldn't remember having been there before.

As they entered the room, Ron gasped.

Harry looked above him. The ceiling was gone, replaced by a clear, blue sky, though Harry knew that this was only a trick of magic. There were goals on both sides of the arena, a few benches at the base, and in the middle of the field, a trunk that Harry imagined contained the playing balls.

"Hermione…" he began, "how did you do this?"

"Ginny and I have been working on it for a few weeks now. Do you like it?"

"You're our saviors!" exclaimed Ron, throwing his arms around his sister and his girlfriend, simultaneously. Then he jumped upon a broomstick and sailed into the air, laughing heartily and making loops around the room.

"This is amazing," Harry said to the girls, who each gave him a delighted smile.

"Give it a try," suggested Ginny.

Harry also took up a broom and soared into the sky. It genuinely felt like he was outdoors! The wind was in his hair and somehow, he could smell fresh grass. He'd have to try this on his Firebolt.

Ginny flew up beside him.

"Can I play Seeker?" she asked.

Harry grinned. "And what am _I_ supposed to do?"

"Well, you'll have to be a Chaser, won't you? It's just the three of us."

Hermione had opened the trunk below and the spheres were rising into the air.

"Better get after that Snitch," Harry said to Ginny with a wink, and then he flew off towards the Quaffle.

The three of them enjoyed a magnificent game, while Hermione watched smugly from below. Harry felt so alive and at home on this provisional Quidditch pitch that he forgot every single one of his problems, if only for the time being.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny could be found on the third landing of Grimmauld Place every day, and the weather was always warm and mild. Mrs. Weasley had not supported the idea, claiming that Harry and Ron had both sustained numerous injuries from the sport, but she didn't prevent them from playing. In fact, she would smile cheerily at them as they came down for meals, and she seemed pleased that they had found something enjoyable to do.

This early-December afternoon was no different than all of the afternoons had been, ever since Hermione had built the pitch. Harry had just scored a goal against Ron, who complained, unconvincingly, that he'd been blinded by the glint off of the Snitch. Ginny said that this was impossible, because the Snitch had been on the other side of the field.

Then, Harry heard Ron call, "Hey, do you wanna play?"

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione all turned to see Luci standing in the doorway.

"No," she called back. "I'm atrocious, believe me. I was just watching."

"Come on!" encouraged Harry. "I'm sure you're not that bad."

"Absolutely not!" she protested.

Harry lowered himself down to the ground, stopping just in front of her.

"Why not?" he asked.

Luci sucked in a sharp gulp of air. "Because I have no desire to make a fool of myself."

"We're just playing around," he said.

"Actually," she began slowly, "I wanted to see if Draco could play."

Harry took a step back. "No way."

"Please, Harry. He's bored and miserable, just like the rest of us. And he loves it. He'll play fair; I've already talked to him about it."

He gaped at her.

"Hurry up, Harry!" Ginny called from above him.

"Play a round with us and I'll think about it," Harry said to Luci.

She inhaled deeply before replying, "Fine, but you have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise," said Harry. He couldn't imagine she could be that terrible, and he knew that she had a tendency to paint herself in the worst light, no matter what the truth might be.

So Luci took up a broom, mounted it, and they sailed back into the air together.

"Do you know the rules?" Ron asked, flying over to them.

"Sort of," responded Luci. "Don't you just get a ball through that hole over there?"

Ron chuckled. "Harry, you'll have to let her be the Chaser, I think."

Luci looked terrified. "What does the Chaser do again?"

"Just get the ball through the hole, like you said," explained Ron.

She nodded.

"And I'm going to try to stop you," Harry warned her.

She nodded again, biting her lip nervously.

"And I," yelled Ginny, "will ignore you all!"

"Me too!" Hermione called up.

"OK, are you ready?" Harry asked Luci.

"Which ball am I supposed to be throwing?"

"That one." Harry pointed to the Quaffle.

Then, he said, "Hey, Hermione, pass me that bat!"

Hermione, not taking her eyes from the book that she was reading, casually levitated a bat to him. Then she apathetically blew the whistle.

Luci was a decent flyer, but that was all that she could even remotely do well. Harry had to put very little effort into his Beater duties. The few times that she managed to get possession of the Quaffle, she couldn't grip it without almost falling off of her broomstick, and every time that she threw it, it veered decidedly to the left. In fact, Ron was picking at something on his shirt, as he obviously felt that there was no need to defend the goal.

Ginny would pass by now and then and give Harry a strange sort of smile, as if she were amused at Luci's utter lack of talent for the game.

After attempting to catch the Quaffle in her right hand and accidentally hitting herself in the face, Luci finally groaned, "Screw this! I give up!"

Harry flew over to her, and she had tears in her eyes.

"It's OK," he assured her, trying desperately to refrain from laughing, because he'd promised not to. "You can't be great at everything!"

"Yeah, but I'm great at _nothing_," she whined.

"Oh, shut up," smiled Harry.

Then the Bludger came hurtling towards them, striking Luci in the side and knocking her forcefully from her broomstick. She fell fast, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Hermione was immediately by her side, and Harry sped towards the ground.

"Are you all right?" he asked, offering her a hand, but she was already getting to her feet.

Shoving Harry in the chest, angrily though not powerfully, Luci spat through her tears, "Dammit, Harry, I told you, I hate this game!"

"You and me both," Hermione muttered.

Ron landed beside them. "That was quite a fall. You all right?" he asked.

Luci nodded.

"Sorry," Harry said to her, still a little stunned by her outburst. "I didn't know anyone could be _that_ bad at Quidditch."

"Yeah, well," she mumbled. Then she looked up with a vicious glower.

Harry turned his head to see that she was staring daggers at Ginny, who was smirking. Had Ginny launched the Bludger at Luci? No, that was impossible. Ginny would never do that. Then again, lately, she hadn't been the Ginny he knew…

"So can Draco play or not?" asked Luci, interrupting his thoughts. "Don't tell me I did that crap for nothing."

"If you'll be here to keep him in line," nodded Harry, who knew that Luci's presence would be necessary.

"Deal," she said. Then she left the room, limping slightly, and Harry saw that her right elbow was bleeding.

"Did Ginny do that?" Harry asked, turning to Ron, whose mouth fell open.

"Ginny wouldn't send a Bludger at someone!" he replied.

"Never," Hermione concurred, reseating herself on the bench and going back to her book.

"No, I know," said Harry, with a sigh. "I guess Luci just jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"She's mental!" agreed Ron. "Did you see how she sprang right back up, as if nothing had happened? After a crash like that? She must have been really mad! Worst Quidditch player I ever saw!"

Then, chortling to himself, Ron flew back up to his goal. After replaying the last few moments in his head, Harry decided that there was nothing to be done about it, and he followed into the air so that they could finish their game.


	17. Chapter Seventeen: The Smith Sanctum

**Chapter Seventeen – The Smith Sanctum**

"Listen to this, you guys," Hermione said to Harry, Ron, and Ginny, as the three of them were preparing for a game after breakfast the following day.

"According to this book, Godric's Hollow – where your parents hid, Harry –"

Harry nodded, annoyed that she would explain this to him, when he'd _been_ there, for Merlin's sake!

"–was founded by Godric Gryffindor! It says here, 'Godric's Hollow is known for its unexplainable occurrences and powerful energies.' Even more so than by Wizarding standards, it says."

Ron was pulling on his Quidditch gloves. "Boring, Hermione," he said.

"It's _not_!" she argued. "I think it's very interesting, don't you, Harry? Ginny?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm with Ron, for once."

"Maybe it explains what happened to me in that house," said Harry.

"_What_ happened?" Ginny asked.

Harry stopped, realizing that he hadn't told Ginny any of this. "Just had a weird flashback," he replied vaguely.

"Oh," she said, distracted by the act of mounting her broom.

"Hey, what's that?" asked Ron abruptly.

Everyone glanced down at Hermione's current book of choice, where a piece of parchment was peeking out from between some of the pages.

"Just some notes," Hermione answered, but her voice shook a bit.

"That's the same parchment that Krum used when he wrote you letters!" exclaimed Ron.

Harry, who thought it odd that Ron had ever paid attention to such a small detail, had a feeling that his best friends were about to come to blows.

"Let me see it!" Ron insisted, when Hermione hadn't said anything.

"No," she finally replied, stuffing the letter farther between the pages.

"Why not?" demanded Ron. "If you're holding on to Krum's old love letters, I deserve to know about it!"

Hermione stared up at him from her seat on the bench, her expression timid.

"It's recent," she said meekly.

"Recent? That's _worse_!" exploded Ron. "Give it here!"

"Ron, it's nothing! We're just friends! We've stayed in touch, that's all!"

Hermione was standing now, ready to defend her right to receive the post.

"Does _he_ know you're just friends?" fumed Ron.

"Yes, of course! I've told him that I love you, you dimwit!"

Ron's angry expression slid from his face. "Really?"

"Yes, really," said Hermione, softly.

Ron was just leaning in for a kiss, and Harry was just becoming nauseous, when Luci and Malfoy appeared in the doorway.

"Disgusting," drawled Malfoy. "Are we in the wrong room? I'm looking for Quidditch."

Harry saw Luci jab Malfoy in the side with the elbow on which she'd fallen just the previous day.

He scowled at her.

"Are we in time for a game?" she asked.

"Just getting started," Harry replied. "What'll you play, Malfoy?"

"Seeker, of course," he answered, as if this was the stupidest question he'd ever been asked.

"I'm Seeker," stated Ginny matter-of-factly.

"Not anymore," Malfoy spat.

"Draco, we're _guests_, remember?" Luci was leading him into the room by his wrist.

"Look, Malfoy," started Harry, "do you think you can handle playing Chaser?"

"Why not Beater?"

"Because I don't trust you with a Bludger," said Harry, coolly.

Malfoy glared.

"He'll play Chaser," announced Luci, and then she handed him a broomstick.

"Fine," grumbled Malfoy, who took the broom and flew it up expertly.

"Well, are you lot coming or not?" he asked, once he was in the air.

Ron and Ginny soared up after him, but Harry turned to Luci.

"Keep an eye on him," he said quietly.

"Oh, I will," said Luci, "in between catching up on my reading, of course."

"What have you got?" Hermione asked her, as Luci sat down beside her on the bench.

"Ancient Runes," replied Luci.

Harry laughed.

Both girls looked up at him curiously.

"You two will have your own kind of fun then," he grinned, and then he sailed his Firebolt into the air.

Below them, Hermione blew the whistle, and Harry immediately began trying to prevent Malfoy from scoring. However, the blonde was excellent on a broom and a very good Chaser. He got the Quaffle past Ron quite a few times before Ron realized that he needed to take this seriously. Malfoy was playing as if the House Cup were on the line.

Harry had just come around to send the Bludger towards Malfoy when his target scored another goal against Ron, who groaned.

"Always were useless, Weasley," burred their opponent.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" seethed Ron. "We can kick you off the pitch any time we want!"

Malfoy, looking fierce, zoomed menacingly towards Ron.

"Don't make me come up there!" Luci called from below.

So Malfoy rerouted his broom, grumbling angrily.

The entire match continued on this way. The three boys just could not get along, but Harry found that he was having a good time anyway. Eventually, Ginny, who had been off by herself, returned to the center of the field with the Snitch securely in her hand, therefore ending the game.

As they all sat down to lunch a few minutes later, Hermione was going on about Luci to Ron. "She knows loads of things and she said she'd be happy to revise with me and, oh, it's a dream come true! Finally, someone who appreciates academia!"

Luci was at the other end of the table with Malfoy and his mother, unable to hear Hermione's praises.

"I thought you didn't like her?" asked Ron, taking a plate.

"I never said that. I said I didn't _trust_ her."

"And you trust her now?" Harry cut in.

Hermione gave a curt nod. "She did something very decent."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"I'd rather not say," she replied, and that was the end of it.

* * *

"Ron, Harry, wake up! I've had an idea!"

"What the…"

Harry and Ron blinked at Hermione, perplexed. The light from her wand had filled the room, stabbing at their sleepy eyes.

"I was doing a bit of leisurely reading before going to sleep, and I came across this passage about the Smith family – you know, Hepzibah? – and I thought of something! Harry, what if Hufflepuff's cup isn't hidden? What if it's exactly where it's supposed to be?"

"What? Where?"

"At Hepzibah Smith's house!"

"Hermione, the woman's been dead for fifty years!" Harry reminded her.

"Yes, but the house is still there," she replied.

"We can't just go banging on someone's door in the middle of the night and ask to have a look around!"

"We can do it like you did with Dudley. One of us will go under some pretense and the other will go under the Cloak and do the looking."

"Uh, hello?" said Ron.

"You can go with Harry," said Hermione, "and I'll pretend I'm… selling something?"

"Go to bed, Hermione," Harry sighed.

"Harry, this is the most important thing we may _ever_ do! You're going to have to face Voldemort, and don't you want to have the assurance that you've destroyed all of his Horcruxes?"

"Yes, but I'd also like to be well-rested."

"Oh, please, when are you ever well-rested? In order to get there by morning, including talking strategy and sufficient travel time, we need to get started right now."

Ron was snoring.

Hermione stomped over to his bed and poked him in the chest with her wand.

"I'm up!" he snorted groggily.

She turned on the overhead light in the room and began, "OK, here's the plan…"

* * *

It was much too early in the morning to be calling at the home of a stranger. Hermione had just tapped the bell to the residence that she had determined belonged to the Smith family.

Hermione's mouth opened along with the door. Harry knew that she was going to have to change her tactic. There, before them, stood Zacharias Smith, looking haughty, as usual.

"Hermione Granger?" he asked.

"Um…" Hermione started. "Do you… do you _live_ here?"

"Of course, I live here! I wouldn't go answering the door of a house in which I did _not_ live."

"Right," agreed Hermione. "Well, I… I'd like to talk to you about… about a petition regarding the freedom of house elves!"

Hermione looked panicked, and this was not going to work. So Harry did the only thing that made sense to him – he tore the Cloak from Ron and himself.

"Potter? Weasley?" Zacharias looked at the three of them suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Before anyone could answer, Hermione did something entirely un-Hermione – she shoved her wand into the throat of Zacharias Smith, whose eyes grew wide with surprise.

"You wouldn't," he spat.

"I would," said Hermione, "so be cooperative. Is anyone else here?"

"No. What do you want?" Zacharias looked as though he might believe Hermione's threat to be serious.

"There's a small goblet with a badger on it," Harry cut in, following Hermione's lead and throwing caution to the wind, along with their plan. "A gold one. We need it."

Zacharias narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"No questions!" commanded Hermione.

Harry almost laughed aloud at her, with her new short crop and her equally new fierce glare. She really _did_ think that what they were doing was the most crucial thing they'd ever do.

"We keep nothing valuable here. It's all in the Sanctum," Zacharias answered.

"Sanctum?" asked Ron.

"Yes, a museum of sorts. But only family may enter."

"You'll have to take us then," said Hermione.

"Very well," replied Zacharias bitterly, "follow me."

He turned and Hermione thrust her wand into his back, trailing him closely. Harry and Ron weren't far behind.

"I knew you and your lot were misfits, Potter, but I had no idea you'd stoop to petty thievery," grumbled Zacharias as they walked.

"It wasn't my first choice, believe me," Harry replied.

Zacharias led the three of them through the kitchen of the house, into the small back yard, and stopped at the edge of the fence. He bent down and tugged at what appeared to be a square of grass, but was actually a trap door. He slid his thin body down into the hole, and Hermione, Harry, and Ron followed, respectively.

There was a ladder, but it was very dark, so Harry lit his wand. The dank mud along the passage smelled of mildew and he attempted to breathe only out of his mouth, but then he could taste it too. Ron, above him, made a choking sound, as he seemed to be suffering the same experience.

Harry's feet hit the ground fairly soon, and Zacharias had turned on a light below. Hermione still had her wand at ready, and her captive was pressing his hand onto some kind of keypad. Just as Ron got to the floor, a large cement door had begun to creak open, the sound of the stone echoing through the small space.

"You first," said Hermione, forcing Zacharias through the entrance.

The Smith Sanctum was reminiscent of a mausoleum, cold and dark, with an eerie energy, as though gravity were somehow heightened. Harry felt like he was being pushed into the floor as the four of them entered. The gray walls rose up alongside them, meeting at the edges of the nearly twenty-foot ceiling. It was one large, square room - the floor, cracked granite tiles and the walls, lined with shelving.

"Astonishing," said Hermione.

Valuable artwork, trinkets, and other items were placed neatly on the shelves, with the larger pieces piled in the corners, upon the floor. A large dresser with ornate glass doors stood towards the back of the room, also crammed full of treasure. Everywhere Harry's eyes could see, there sparkled gold or jewels or some other magnificent piece.

"Yes," said Zacharias, "impressive, isn't it? I don't know if what you're looking for is here, but have at it. You should know, however, that as soon as you go, I'll be reporting this incident."

"Keep an eye on him while we look," Harry said to Hermione, who nodded.

"I'll check this dresser," said Ron, "and you check the shelves."

Harry and Ron went to work, rummaging through the items. There was a nomenclature among the shelves, everything arranged meticulously. Harry tried not to touch anything, afraid that he would, somehow, tarnish the beauty. He admired the items, many of them engraved with the same badger that could be found on the cup, but he moved his eyes along the pieces quickly, searching.

"Here!" called Ron eventually, holding up the small golden cup with the finely wrought handles.

Harry couldn't believe it. The likelihood that it would be here was so slight… Hermione was a genius! Voldemort had hidden it where no one would look!

He went over to confirm the goblet's identity and Ron tried to hand it to him.

"Can't touch it, remember?" said Harry, backing away. "But that's definitely it. Unbelievable."

At that moment, a chill moved down Harry's spine, and he became aware of a familiar despair. He turned to see a Dementor sinking down into the room, as though it had come right out of the ceiling. Ron gasped and stumbled backwards into the dresser, which fell over on top of him, shattering and spilling things everywhere.

"Ron!" shrieked Hermione, who ran towards him, leaving Zacharias unattended.

Hufflepuff's cup had fallen to the floor at Ron's feet.

"Grab the cup!" Harry said to Hermione, who obeyed, "and I'll get Ron out from under this thing."

Zacharias was standing dumbfounded on the other side of the room, seemingly unable to move.

The Dementor, which realized that Hermione was now in possession of the Horcrux, bore down on her. Harry heard her squeak, but he was focusing on lifting the dresser.

"Harry!" cried Hermione. "You'll have to do the Patronus! I… I can't…"

Harry turned to see that she was holding her wand up feebly, the cup in her other hand, and the Dementor was slowly pulling her spirit from her body.

There was a sense of chaos, with too many things happening at once. Harry moved towards Hermione, readying his wand and leaving Ron beneath the dresser.

But suddenly, she had forced the cup in front of her, using it as a shield.

As though it didn't know the difference, the Dementor kept feeding, sucking the soul right out of the cup. However, the essence in the cup was smoky black, where Hermione's had been a silvery shade.

Harry, Hermione, and Zacharias watched in wonder.

Finally, the Dementor coughed wretchedly and backed away from Hermione. It seemed confused and sickened by the consumption of the Horcrux. Harry couldn't feel its icy affect. Perhaps it had been weakened.

The Dementor, disoriented but still in search of prey, turned to Harry, who raised his wand and shouted effortlessly, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

Without any attempt at resistance, the hooded creature was pursued by the stag, back up through the ceiling, both of them disappearing from sight.

Knowing that they couldn't waste any more time, Harry said, "Hurry, we have to get Ron out from under this thing!"

"Harry," said Hermione, and he turned to her.

She threw the goblet to him, and he caught it in his left hand. It didn't burn him. He stared at it incredulously, noticing the long lightning-shaped crack along its side that hadn't been there before. This had been far too easy. It had _all_ been far too easy. Harry's stomach went into a sour uproar at this apprehension.

"You're bleeding," Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked down and saw that a large piece of the stained glass was lodged in his left pectoral muscle. He hadn't even noticed it before, but now a surge of pain went through his entire upper left side. He dropped the cup in response. Blocking out the pain, he gave up on lifting the dresser and he began to try to drag Ron out from under it.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," commanded Hermione, and the dresser lifted lightly from Ron's frame, crashing down again a few feet away when Hermione lowered her wand and ran to his side.

Ron was unconscious and covered in blood, cut in many places from the broken glass.

Hermione looked up at Harry with tears in her eyes, and he said, "Let's get him out of here."

"_Morbilicorpus_," Hermione said faintly over Ron's body, and it rose limply into the air.

"We won't be needing the cup after all, Zacharias," said Harry faintly, as he was growing dizzy from the blood loss. "So no thievery committed. Thanks for your help."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left Zacharias standing there, flabbergasted by what he'd just seen.

Hermione dropped Ron onto the entryway floor as soon as they'd gotten safely back to Grimmauld Place. Then she collapsed beside him.

Luckily, lunch was being served in the kitchen, and Harry merely had to saunter unsteadily into the doorway to indicate that help was needed.

Things were growing hazy, and he heard something break. His legs felt weak and he fell into the doorframe. Soft hands were touching his face and he heard Luci's voice, then Lupin's, then Mr. Weasley's, though it sounded like they were all under water. Then he felt strong arms around him, lifting him into the air, and that was the last thing that he remembered.


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Confrontational Xmas

**Chapter Eighteen – Confrontational Christmas**

In and out of consciousness, Harry was unsure about the passing of time. Mrs. Weasley was often by his bedside, scolding him for his antics and treating his wound. She would run her hands over Harry's forehead and mumble about how much she loved him. It made Harry's chest feel very warm. Or was that the salve that she kept slathering on him? Sometimes, he would wake up and Ginny or Luci or Tonks would be beside him, instead of Mrs. Weasley. At one point, he thought that he might have said something embarrassing to one of the four of them, but he wasn't sure which, and he wasn't sure what. And he was terribly aware, however drowsy, that he was shirtless, and he remembered thinking that he'd be very uncomfortable over the presence of all of these women, were he more sentient.

When he first felt a real sense of being alert, Tonks was sitting in a chair to his left, reading a book.

He groaned, and she jumped to attention.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"I'm so tired," he muttered.

"The glass punctured your pleural cavity," said Tonks.

"What?"

"I don't know," she said, "has something to do with your lungs. But you'll be all right."

Harry, suddenly aware of his naked torso, pulled the quilt up to his chin.

"How's Ron?"

"Fred and George are bringing him home from St. Mungo's at any minute, but he's in a bad way. You should be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" asked Harry, sitting up slowly, but still clutching the covers around him.

Tonks smiled in a strange motherly fashion at his modesty, but then responded, "The damage. He's pretty cut up."

Harry's heart sank.

"Why are Fred and George coming?"

"You've slept almost to Christmas!" replied Tonks. "It's less than a week away. The whole Weasley clan will be arriving shortly. Now, I'd better go tell everyone that you're really awake this time."

Tonks left the room, but she was gone no longer than ten minutes when Mrs. Weasley brought Ron into the room, Fred and George on her heels.

It was true – Ron looked awful. He had large cuts over his left eye, on his right cheek, and above his top lip, and, Harry imagined, also covering the rest of his body.

"All right, Harry?" mumbled Ron.

"Yeah. You?"

"Been better," he said, groaning as his mother lowered him into his bed.

"Glad to see you're awake, Harry, dear," commented Mrs. Weasley as she tucked a quilt beneath Ron's chin.

"Another attempt on our brother's life, eh, Harry?" said Fred, grinning.

Harry didn't find this even remotely funny, and he scowled in response.

George held up his hands in capitulation. "We're only joking. You're going to have to work on that Christmas spirit of yours."

"Got it, Mum?" asked Fred.

"Yes," responded Mrs. Weasley. "You boys can go up to your room and unpack."

Fred and George disappeared from the doorway, and Harry watched Mrs. Weasley tuck the quilt around Ron.

"Now, I want both of you to rest," she said to them. "Is that clear?"

Harry and Ron nodded, and Mrs. Weasley left the room with a distressed sigh.

Harry turned to his best friend. "I'm sorry, mate."

Ron shrugged, though he was lying down, so it was hard to tell for sure. "Hazard of hunting for evil cups."

"Yeah, but it's my fault we were there in the first place," said Harry.

"Technically, it's Hermione's fault," disagreed Ron, "but I can't blame her, due to loving her and all, you know, so…"

"Gee, thanks," came Hermione's voice, and she stood before them in the doorway. She was only there for an instant, however, because she proceeded quickly to Ron's bedside.

"How are you?" she cooed.

"They tell me I'll live. You all right?"

But Hermione didn't answer, because she was now kissing Ron ferociously. Harry turned away, wishing that he were still asleep.

* * *

A few days later, Bill and Fleur arrived at Grimmauld Place, and they had brought Charlie with them. Harry and Ron were both feeling well enough to go down to dinner in order to welcome them all. The three of them apologized copiously for not being here when Ron was hurt, but they said they'd tied things up in their respective locations as quickly as was possible. Bill and Fleur told everyone about their tropical honeymoon, including how a large lizard of some sort had fallen onto Fleur while she'd been sunbathing, which brought hearty laughter from all, except for Fleur herself.

Mrs. Weasley's joy at having her whole family home was obvious, but she could be heard mumbling about how Percy's presence was all she needed to complete her holiday. Harry hoped, for her sake, that the estranged son would make an appearance.

Harry noticed Charlie sitting beside Luci, chatting with her while Malfoy glared disapprovingly, and he wondered why she hadn't been to see him since he'd awoken. The thought caused an unidentifiable heavy sensation in his heart, so he tried to focus on the warmth of being surrounded by the Weasley family.

* * *

Christmas was upon them before they knew it. An ample pile of presents greeted Harry that morning, glowing up at him from the foot of his bed. Ron was busy unwrapping his own parcels, which, so far, consisted of a box of Chocolate Frogs and a new pair of Quidditch robes.

"Happy Christmas, Harry!" Ron said jovially, obviously infected with the holiday spirit and having forgotten his troubles.

Harry smiled through a yawn. "Happy Christmas."

First, he opened a collection from Fred and George, which included the Four-Pronged Extendable Ears he'd sampled at the wedding. How many times had he needed these before now? _Better late than never_, he thought.

Hermione had given him a N.E.W.T. preparation journal that assisted you in scheduling your study time for each subject. Harry groaned. Ron held up an identical journal and rolled his eyes.

The next package was small. Harry didn't know who had sent it, and nothing was attached to reveal the benefactor. Hermione would have been appalled and scolded him until she was blue in the face, but he began to open it anyway.

It was a beautiful pocket watch with his name imprinted on the front. He opened it hesitantly.

"_It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live_," came Dumbledore's voice, sounding oddly far away.

Harry gasped, dropping the watch into his lap.

"What was that?" asked Ron.

"I… I don't know…" Harry replied, picking it up again. On the back was engraved _Dumbledore's Man_. He felt a stab of pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his still-healing wound, and his nose began to sting as his eyes watered.

He opened the watch again.

"_Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you_," chimed Dumbledore, in that same ethereal tone. Harry studied the odd watch, which had twelve hands, and tiny planets moved along the face, where numbers should have been.

"Ruddy brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "Who's it from?"

"No idea."

"Really? Lemme see."

Harry handed the watch to Ron and continued to look through his presents, but he was very preoccupied. Who had given him such a personal gift? And it was expensive too.

Downstairs, Draco Malfoy had also received an anonymous Christmas present. He sat at the table with an extravagant emerald green cloak around his shoulders. Harry overheard him telling Luci that there was no note attached, but that he was sure it was from his father. Harry was sure, however, that his own mysterious gift was definitely _not_ from Malfoy's father.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Luci grinned up at him as he was walking past her seat.

He stopped and smiled back at her. "Merry Christmas."

Harry's attention to Luci seemed to upset Malfoy, because he spilled pumpkin juice all over his new cloak.

"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed as she began to vacuum the liquid with her wand.

"My father will get me a new one," Malfoy drawled portentously, batting his mother's hands away.

"Your father's in Azkaban," Harry pointed out.

Malfoy sneered. "At least _my_ father is alive!"

Immediately overcome by fury, Harry leaned across the table, clenched his right fist, and plowed it into Malfoy's face, so hard that his glasses slid down his own nose.

Malfoy shot up from his seat, his hands going to his face. Blood trickled down his chin.

"How _dare_ you?" his mother spurted, getting to her feet.

"_Episkey_," she chanted, and Malfoy's nose healed itself.

"Have you gone mental, Potter?" he spat.

Harry was so engulfed in his rage that he could barely speak. "You asked for it, Malfoy," he hissed.

"SHUT! UP!" Luci yelled, now standing too.

Harry and Malfoy ceased their bickering and both turned to her. Silence drifted through the room and all eyes were suddenly on Luci.

"My _god_!" she continued, furiously. "What _is_ it with you two?"

After a moment of quiet, in which everyone apparently thought that the question was rhetorical, Malfoy replied derisively, "He hit me!"

Luci turned on him. "Can you _blame_ him?"

Malfoy gave her a reproachful look. "You're on _his_ side?"

"I'm not on _anyone's_ side!" she groaned, exasperatedly. "I'm just exhausted from trying to referee the two of you! Can't you be civil to one another? It's _Christmas_, after all!"

Malfoy started to open his mouth again.

"I don't wanna hear it!" Luci said, holding up a hand.

"You can't talk to my son that way!" growled Narcissa.

Everyone continued to watch in fascinated silence. For the kitchen never having been so full of people, it was astonishing at the lack of sound.

"Well, _someone_ needs to talk to him that way," Luci retorted.

Narcissa scowled, started to reply, thought better of it, and closed her mouth again.

Luci then turned to Harry, whose stomach knotted up under her gaze.

"I know he provokes you, but must you always resort to violence?"

Harry could only stare back at her, dumbstruck. They were less than a foot apart and all he could think about was that intoxicating sweet smell.

"You two are infuriating!" she sighed, throwing her hands in the air and stalking angrily from the kitchen.

Malfoy glared at Harry and then also traipsed out of the room, his mother following closely behind.

"Wow," Harry breathed to Ron, lowering himself into the seat beside his friend.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "Guess Malfoy can drive anyone mad."

"Nice blow, Harry," Fred called to him.

George nodded. "He had it coming."

The twins proceeded to reenact Harry's punch and Malfoy's stunned reaction. Ginny giggled.

At that moment, to everyone's shock, Percy entered the kitchen, causing another wave of silence to crash into the room. Mrs. Weasley, tears streaming down her face, jumped from her seat to hug him.

"Happy Christmas, Mother," Percy said dryly.

"How did you get here?" she asked, beaming. "Who told you where we were?"

"Never mind that," replied Percy, though Harry would have really liked to hear the answer. "I can only stay a little while. There is work to be done at the Ministry, even on Christmas."

"I'll take you for as long as I can get you!" said Mrs. Weasley happily, but the rest of the Weasleys did not look so pleased. Since Percy had turned his back on the family, he had not been a very welcome sight.

After the buoyant holiday celebration, Harry, feeling guilty for upsetting her, broke away to find Luci, whom he prayed was not with Malfoy. Her door was closed, and she didn't answer when he knocked, so he looked elsewhere and eventually found her in the drawing room with an unopened book on her lap. He could have _sworn_ he heard her humming a Muggle Christmas carol.

"Luci?" he called quietly, because she hadn't seemed to notice his entrance.

She ceased the humming, instead letting out a small cry, and the book hit the floor with a thud, as she'd gotten to her feet in surprise. Her face flushed. "I… didn't know you were there."

"Sorry," Harry replied, stepping forward to retrieve the book from the floor.

She took it from him and smiled slightly. "About all of that downstairs..."

"I came to apologize to you," Harry interjected. "I shouldn't have hit him."

Luci shook her head. "What he said to you was inexcusable. I can't believe his nerve sometimes."

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off, turning his eyes to the floor. "Don't know how you can stand him."

"He'd ask me the same about you… But I know it hurts. Life without your father, I mean, and no one should ever throw it in your face that way."

"Is your father… dead… too?"

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Something like that. I'm really in an awful position here. I care about you both and you hate each other. I can't take sides, so I just have to try to mediate, I guess."

Luci admitted to caring about him! He couldn't help but smile at this.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," muttered Harry. "I'll try to get along with him."

She tilted her head to one side. "I appreciate that, but I don't think he'd make the same gesture, and it's a two-way street."

"Yeah, he's always been a jerk."

"Listen to me, Harry," Luci said suddenly, firmly.

He was taken aback by her tone and looked at her attentively.

"You have to learn to control your anger, _especially_ if you intend on becoming an Auror. You can't go around losing your temper at everyone."

Despite these warnings, Harry felt resentment mounting in his chest.

"Why are you suddenly talking to me like I'm a child?" he asked, defensively.

"It's just friendly advice," she replied. "You have to get a grip on your emotions."

He was suddenly seething, and she could tell.

"Look," she sighed, "I understand anger; believe me. Better than you know. But it'll own you, and you can't let it. Your destiny is too great."

"I have every right to be angry."

"_I'd_ be far angrier than you are if I'd experienced half of what you have," agreed Luci, "but you need to control your reactions to that anger. Not because you don't have a right to it, but because it's dangerous not to."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "You've never talked to me like this before. What's _really _wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. That's ridiculous."

"No, it isn't. We've hardly spoken in days."

Luci looked away, grumbling, "No, _you've_ hardly spoken to _me_ in days."

Harry frowned. "Well, I _was_ unconscious… and with Ron and Hermione here, I've just…"

"Exactly," Luci cut him off.

"Do you have a problem with my friends? Is that what this is about?"

She looked at him in astonishment. "No! No, it's just that, since you've all gotten back, since _way_ before…"

She stopped.

"What?" he demanded.

She looked down at the floor and mumbled, "I've… sort of… missed you, that's all. Nights in the drawing room and stuff…"

Harry's stomach lurched. He swallowed and choked, "Oh."

Luci was still staring at her feet, her white-gold tresses falling into her face, chewing on her thumbnail. She looked so… vulnerable. He had an almost unstoppable urge to kiss her. Appalled by this, he took a step back.

_Ginny_, he reminded himself.

Thinking that his recoil meant that she'd said the wrong thing, Luci, with her nose scrunched up in humiliation, muttered, "Forget I said that."

"I don't _want_ to forget it," blurted Harry.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

He gathered all of his courage and continued, more composedly, "I've missed you too. I just thought that we were keeping to ourselves because you didn't want Malfoy to know."

She nodded, "We are," and then shook her head, "I'm just an idiot."

Sighing in frustration, Harry asked, "Why do you do that?"

Luci gaped at him. "I…" She closed her mouth and pursed her lips.

"No, I'd really like an answer," he continued.

She took a sharp breath. "I guess I just… don't like myself very much sometimes."

"That's mental."

"_I'm_ mental. Unfortunate character flaw."

Bewildered, he studied her face.

"You know, I don't like myself half the time either, but it seems like you're trying to make sure that no one else likes you either," Harry pointed out.

She smiled faintly. "You have me all figured out then?"

"No!" he said in vexation. "That's the problem!"

"What do you want to know?" she asked. "Seriously. I'll answer anything that's mine to answer."

Thinking of the Christmas song that she had been humming, he asked, "Are you Muggleborn?"

"Half-Blood," she nodded. "My mother's a Muggle. But Draco can _never_ know that, for obvious reasons. God, I miss my mother…"

He saw pain cloud her eyes, so he continued quickly, "And you said your dad is dead?"

"I said, 'Something _like_ that.' He's dead to me."

"Did he do something…?"

Luci turned her head away. "I don't wanna talk about him."

"You said you'd answer anything I asked," he reminded her.

"Yeah, well, I lied," she said tersely.

Harry was about to accuse her of having a nasty pattern of lying, but he bit his tongue. Instead, he said, gently, "Tell me about your dad."

Luci averted her eyes. "He's a bastard," she said hatefully, so flatly that it seemed more startling than if she'd shouted it.

"What could he have _possibly_ done…?"

"He left, that's what!" she interrupted, and then she gritted her teeth and concluded, "The end."

Harry desperately wanted to know the rest of the story, but Luci had become distraught, and he thought it best not to push her. Suddenly, she seemed uncharacteristically fragile.

"OK," he agreed.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Harry nodded, but she wasn't looking at him. She was still staring at the floor. After a moment, when she _did_ glance up at him, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes teary.

"Someday, Harry," she began slowly, "I will tell you everything, much more than you ever wanted to know, but that day is not today."

Then, without waiting for his response, she Disapparated.

* * *

Luci was coming towards him.

"I've always wanted to kiss The Boy Who Lived," she breathed, softly.

Harry eagerly reached out for her.

Suddenly, it was Ginny in front of him, saying, "We can be together again once you kill You-Know-Who."

He smiled at her. She sent a Bat-Bogey hex upon him. His hands flew to his face.

But when he looked down at his palms, it wasn't bogies that he saw, but blood. Not his own.

Then Dumbledore was lying on the floor before him.

"NO!" Harry heard himself cry out, throwing the quilt from his body.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked drowsily, awoken by the commotion.

"I… um… bad dream," Harry responded, slowly, looking down at his hands, just in case.

Ron made a muffled noise of understanding and immediately fell asleep again.

Harry rolled over onto his stomach. Sometimes, after these nightmares, the pounding of his heart was all that he could hear. He lay awake for a long time, his mind churning.


	19. Chapter Nineteen: The Unwelcome Headline

**Chapter Nineteen – The Unwelcome Headline**

Something had happened to Harry since that dream. He would find himself staring at Luci, his eyes following the curve of her neck, his skin prickling at the thought of her touch, his temperature rising every time she entered a room. What was wrong with him? He couldn't stop thinking about kissing her. He would repeat Ginny's name in his head, in hopes of making these emotions go away, but it had so far been in vain.

This made the days following Christmas quite frustrating. Charlie was still around, and he seemed to have a growing interest in Luci, which perturbed Harry greatly. He couldn't tell, for the life of him, however, if she returned Charlie's affections. He often wondered if it would be improper to just ask her. And how improper would it be to just seize her and kiss her? Very improper, he decided. Harry even found himself growing jealous of Malfoy, who spent plenty of time with Luci and certainly knew her better than he did. Envy towards Malfoy was surely the most shame-worthy emotion Harry had ever experienced.

Bill and Fleur, sickeningly and obviously still newlyweds, floated about the house, but Harry had to admit that it did brighten up the place. Fleur, of course, was like moonlight, dusting everything and everyone around her with her enchanting luminosity. It was no wonder that Bill was never seen without an enormous grin on his face. Harry, too, couldn't help but smile in Fleur's presence, and Ron was beside himself, much to Hermione's dismay. The two boys had tried to explain, repeatedly, that Fleur was irresistible, but Hermione seemed to harbor the belief that they just weren't putting up a good enough fight against her charms.

Luci seemed to also be cheered by Fleur's presence. The two were often seen giggling together. Hermione had even complained that Fleur had stolen Luci's attention from _her_, as well, giving the impression that Hermione was missing her academic partner.

Mrs. Weasley continued to make random comments about Percy, who had stayed all of one hour on Christmas day. Her husband nodded but did not reply, though there was anger and disappointment in his eyes. Fred, George, and Ginny, however, were unabashed about insulting Percy in response.

"What a troll," Ginny would say.

"He's a credit to the troll race," Fred agreed.

"King of prats everywhere," added George.

Ron's cuts had healed as much as they would ever heal, they were told. The scars were noticeable, but they weren't hideous, and Ron had even said, "Perhaps they'll call _me_ 'the boy with the scar' now," and Harry had laughed.

New Years Day arrived.

Harry and Ron were still unable to take up Quidditch again, though they knew that Malfoy was making good use of the pitch while they were gone.

It was late morning, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were pouring over books in the drawing room. Hermione had been entirely derailed by her experience with the Dementor, and she couldn't understand how it could have sucked the piece of soul from Hufflepuff's cup.

"They feed on _fear_," she was saying at the moment. "The cup couldn't have produced fear, so how could it have happened?"

"They suck souls out of people. Why not inanimate objects?" suggested Harry.

"It was too easy," argued Hermione.

"_Easy_?" exclaimed Ron. "Permanently disfigured is not _easy_, thank you very much."

A striking pain hit Harry in the gut, and he recognized it as his familiar companion – guilt.

Hermione was gazing at Ron lovingly. "I wouldn't use the word 'disfigured,' Ronald."

"Yeah? What word _would_ you use?"

"Experienced," she said simply. "You just have visible memories, that's all."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"It was the blackest soul," said Hermione, suddenly sounding distant, as though revisiting the memory.

"Well, it _was_ Voldemort," Harry reminded her.

"And if the Dementor swallowed it, is it destroyed, or do we now have to extract it from that awful creature?" Hermione continued, ignoring Harry's comment.

"Now _that's_ a good question," said Ron.

"Ahem."

Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway.

"I've been meaning to talk to you lot," she began, sternly. "Wanted to wait until you boys felt better."

"Uh, oh," Ron said, under his breath, as his mother stepped into the room.

"Now, this has been going on ever since the three of you first met at Hogwarts. You keep chasing after these silly notions and you always end up getting hurt. You hardly ever explain where you've been or what's happened to you. I never know when you could disappear and I'll have seen you for the last time. When will it be enough?"

No one said anything.

"When one if you is dead?" she prompted.

"When _Voldemort's_ dead," answered Harry plainly.

She shivered at the name, and then replied, "Even if you end up getting killed in the process?"

"Yes," he replied. "But I'll protect Ron and Hermione with all I've got."

He immediately stared down at the pages of the book, the words swirling before him, trying not to catch anyone's eye.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head in frustration. "Whatever you kids are doing, I know you think it's important, but don't forget that there is a plethora of people who are willing and ready to help you. There is safety in numbers. All you need to do is ask."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were silent. So Mrs. Weasley nodded hopelessly, and though she looked like she had much more to say to them, she left the room.

Harry felt so torn. He _had_ to go after Voldemort and the Horcruxes. But he was risking lives by doing it. Sometimes, he thought he'd just do nothing about it, but he knew that the responsibility was on his shoulders, and he'd have to face it someday. He might as well just get it over with.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said softly.

"Now about the Dementors," cut in Hermione, abruptly. "Maybe I discuss it with Luci. You know, offhandedly, like I'm just curious."

Harry gaped at her, forgetting his dilemma. He wondered what on earth Luci had done to earn Hermione's trust. Then he realized that it might very well be time to tell his best friends the truth.

"You guys should know," he started, "that I've told her everything."

"_What_?" Hermione dropped her quill.

Ron didn't look surprised, but when Hermione glanced at him for support, he feigned disapproval.

"What were you _thinking_, Harry?" she screeched.

"You said, yourself, that you trust her," shrugged Harry.

"This is different! This is something that we haven't even told _Ginny_! Oh, Harry!"

"Hermione, it's done. I'm just saying that you can ask her openly."

Hermione was still fuming. "How long has she known?"

"Since before I came to Hogwarts," answered Harry.

She squeaked. "Oh, she could have told _anyone_ by now!"

"I think we'd know if she had," said Harry unperturbedly.

"Why, Harry?" Hermione continued. "Can you at least tell us _why_? What is it about her?"

Harry frowned.

"She's too _old_ for you, Harry!"

"Hermione, Krum was _four_ years older than _you_! And _you_ weren't even of age!"

Ron had been silent, up to this point, when he interpolated, "Can we not talk about Krum, please? Just give it a rest, Hermione. Like he said, it's done."

She opened her mouth to respond, but then she sighed and nodded. "I'll go ask her then."

"We'll go together," agreed Harry.

The three of them headed to Luci's room, but instead, they met Malfoy and Luci, together, on the second landing. Malfoy was wearing a very satisfied smirk.

"Why do _you_ look so happy?" Harry asked him, uncouthly.

"My father's escaped from Azkaban," Malfoy proudly replied.

Hermione gasped, and Luci's expression told Harry that she didn't share Malfoy's pleasure at this news.

"That's right, Potter; you _should_ be scared!"

Harry realized that the fear must have shown on his face, so he distorted his features into a stone-cold glare.

"No one's scared of your dad, Malfoy. He's just a big bully."

"My father is a greater wizard than you'll ever be!" snarled Malfoy.

"Oh yeah?" Harry scoffed. "Is that why he ran around claiming he'd been under the Imperius Curse when I defeated his old mate, Voldemort, the first time? Sounds like a coward to me."

Malfoy lunged at Harry.

"Enough!" shouted Luci, grabbing the tail of Malfoy's shirt to hold him back.

"Lucky for you, she's always here to make sure you never have to actually defend yourself," Harry jeered.

"Stop it, Harry."

He turned to Luci and her eyes were cold. He felt as if she'd just slugged him in the gut.

"Fine," he spat. "Protect him. But eventually, he'll have to face me on his own, and then we'll see who's a great wizard."

With this, Harry stamped away angrily, followed by Ron and Hermione, who remained in stunned silence.

A small crowd had gathered in the kitchen, and Harry pushed his way to the table, where the _Daily Prophet_ lay spread open, the headline reading, "_DEATH EATERS ESCAPE AZKABAN FOR SECOND TIME!_"

"Oh, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley was saying as her husband held her.

"At least it was only a few of them," said Mr. Weasley.

Harry turned to Lupin, who stood on his right. "Which ones escaped?"

"Just Malfoy, Crabbe, Rabastan, and Mulciber," Lupin answered.

Relieved by the small number, Harry released a long breath.

Professor McGonagall was standing towards the back of the room.

"Ahem!" she called over the noise.

The voices ceased and everyone looked up at her.

"For those of you who have read this article, you now know that Professor Clares Todge is a Death Eater. I had no knowledge of this when she was hired, of course, and I am greatly regretful, especially for the deaths due to her employment." McGonagall stopped and sniveled quietly. "After her dismissal, I see no reason why Hogwarts cannot reopen its doors."

The room erupted and Professor McGonagall held up a hand, quieting everyone again.

"Unless anyone disagrees?"

Mrs. Weasley stepped forward. "Now there are even _more_ Death Eaters out there, and half of them know their way around Hogwarts. We cannot forget about Severus Snape! You can reopen the school but none of my children will be returning. Harry, Hermione, that includes you."

This time, the room was silent.

"Very well," said McGonagall finally. "The school shall remain closed until further notice."

Then she nodded politely to the room at large and Disapparated.

"Can we still get in touch with the members of the D.A.?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

She held up the Galleon that she apparently kept with her, and asked, "Why?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to need quite an army."

* * *

Harry spent the entire day seething at Luci because she'd taken Malfoy's side. He wanted to confront her about it, but he didn't see her again. According to Fleur, she'd locked herself in her room and was refusing to come out. Because of this, Malfoy and his mother were free to saunter smugly around the house, something that seemed to irritate everyone immensely.

As the evening was drawing to a close, Hermione ventured, "We should ask her about the Dementor."

Harry glanced at her and took a moment to respond. He wanted to see Luci by himself. "Let me."

"But…" she began.

"She trusts me," he cut her off.

"She trusts me too," Hermione countered.

"She trusts me too," said Ron, and then he grinned. "Just wanted to be included."

Harry shook his head and smiled at the pair of them. "I'll be right back."

He knocked softly on Luci's door. They hadn't spoken privately since the conversation about her father, and he was unusually nervous about talking to her now, as though she were likely to be in the same troubled mood.

"Go away," she called, confirming his suspicions.

Crestfallen, he started to leave the landing, but then he thought better of it.

"It's Harry," he called back, hoping against hope that she would want to see him.

After a moment, she opened the door only slightly and peered out. Her eyes were red, and Harry could tell that she'd been crying. Something about her frailty took his breath away.

"What's up?" she asked him, her voice apathetic despite her expression.

Harry frowned. "Are you all right?"

Luci forced a smile. "Sure. Fine."

Wondering what she was hiding, Harry asked, "Can I come in?"

She hesitated, but then she widened the door and Harry stepped inside. He noticed that her room, like most of the bedrooms in Grimmauld Place, contained merely a bed and a desk. However, it was the only other room, besides the kitchen, in which Harry had seen a fireplace. Suddenly, it struck him that this was her method of communicating with people outside of Grimmauld Place.

Upon the desk, he saw the current _Daily Prophet_, with the same blaring headline.

Harry must have been silent for too long as he was looking around the room, because Luci said impatiently, "Is there something I can do for you?"

Wounded by her iciness, he considered just stomping from the room and leaving her to do her crying.

Instead, he swallowed his pride and said, "Why do you have to be like that?"

She bit her lip. "Sorry."

He moved closer to her, even though the proximity made him feel tremulous.

"Are you sure you're all right? You've been up here all day. I thought you were mad at me."

"Mad at _you_?" she asked in surprise. "No, of course not. I shouldn't have snapped at you earlier. I'm just... It's a bad day and I'm just having a bit of a conniption, that's all."

Harry looked at her uncertainly. "Why are you so upset?"

She hesitated. "It's nothing. I'm just… homesick and tired of this place…"

Noticing the injured look on his face, she corrected herself, "This _place_, not you or anyone else. Poor Draco. At least I've been able to go to your family's house and to Hogwarts. Imagine how it must be for him and his mother."

Harry scowled. "They both deserve to be in Azkaban, so they should count themselves lucky."

Luci shook her head and smiled. "So bitter."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she carried on, "I know, I know, you have a right to be bitter. I'm immensely bitter over some things too, obviously, so I don't hold it against you."

He sighed and then redirected the conversation.

"Did you see the paper? One of our professors was a Death Eater, _again_!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Luci, going over to get the _Daily Prophet_.

As she walked back towards him, Harry continued, "I knew someone had told the Death Eaters that I was at Hogwarts. It was one of the new professors, a woman called Todge."

"Hmm," said Luci, trying to unfold the paper to read the story. Attempting to shake the pages straight, she dropped it onto the floor.

Harry bent down to retrieve it and heard a clunk, followed by, "_It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities._"

The gold watch had fallen out of his trousers.

He snatched it up quickly, shoved it back into his pocket, and handed the newspaper over to Luci, who was grinning brightly.

"It's just a pocket watch," said Harry, in an attempt at explanation.

"OK," she replied, but her eyes were glittering.

He gawped. "You didn't…?"

Her mouth curled hesitantly.

"_Did_ you?"

"His portrait wanted me to give it to you."

The portrait? Was that where she was often sneaking off to – the Headmaster's office? Is that why she had the Professor's Pass? And if so, what was she discussing with a dead wizard? Harry himself, perhaps?

"But it was my idea to engrave it and to enclose his voice in it," she continued, when he hadn't spoken. "It was his, you know. He'd had it for ages. Not much use in death, of course."

Harry met her gaze again, and he just looked at her, the questions melting away. He was experiencing a marvelous upsurge of affection, like fire in his veins. He was so moved by her gesture that he couldn't find words, so he just stepped closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. He fully intended to kiss her, but then she stepped back uncomfortably.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Sorry, I'm not much of a hugger."

He almost laughed aloud. Instead, he said, "It's all right. Thank you. This is… brilliant."

"You like it?"

"Very much. It's the best thing I've gotten, next to the Invisibility Cloak. Why didn't you say it was from you? I've actually been a little scared of it, not knowing who sent it."

"I shouldn't have told you now, but I'm losing my resolve. Anyway, it's inappropriate for me to give you a gift," answered Luci.

"Why?"

"You know why," she smiled, "so let's just keep this to ourselves, shall we?"

"What do you mean – your resolve?"

She vacillated for a moment, but then replied, "It gets harder and harder not to completely spill my soul to you."

He blinked, astounded. "Then why don't you?"

"Because I still have _some_ self-control," she grinned.

Harry, baffled by this line of conversation, merely replied, "Oh."

Then, searching for something to say in order to avoid awkward silence, he continued, "We need your advice."

"We?"

"Me and Ron and Hermione."

"OK?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We found another Horcrux," he began, and then he told her about the events with Zacharias.

"So, in the end, Hermione is stumped on how the Dementor could have removed the soul from the cup," he concluded.

Luci, who had been shaking her head disbelievingly throughout the whole story, now took a deep breath.

"You're all lunatics," she said, smiling, "but it has to be done, I guess."

Harry nodded.

"I don't know… I mean, perhaps a _piece_ of a soul is as capable of fear as the soul in its entirety. Maybe it fears the end of its existence as much as we do."

He frowned. "Possibly. But Hermione's concern is that the piece of soul isn't destroyed – now it's just stuck in that Dementor."

"No, when a Dementor steals your soul, it's gone forever. They don't carry it around with them. Imagine the suitcase they'd need for that! But like I said, I don't know much about the _splitting_ of the soul. I'd have to research it too. I could help, if you'd like." She said this last bit as if she were preparing herself for rejection.

"Ron and Hermione know that I've told you everything," said Harry, "so you could join us."

Luci narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you check with them first and get back to me?"

"All right… The watch, I don't know how to thank you."

She beamed. "The look in your eyes was thanks enough. I'm just glad you like it."

He nodded. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yep. 'Night."

She closed the door, and Harry returned to his room, where he relayed Luci's thoughts to Ron and Hermione, who agreed, after some slight persuasion, to allow her in on the research.


	20. Chapter Twenty: Done With Hiding

**Chapter Twenty – Done With Hiding**

Harry bolted upright, breathing heavily, his heart pounding. His temples were throbbing and he swallowed hard. He was becoming accustomed to these rude awakenings. Ron, per usual, was sleeping deeply.

Putting on his glasses, he climbed out of bed. He quietly opened the door of the room and tiptoed down the hall towards the bathroom. He yawned silently, rubbing his eyes as he walked along the corridor.

Unexpectedly, he became aware of soft voices. He slowed, following the sound, and stopped outside a door that was two down from his own – Luci's room!

"I don't care where you think you come from," he heard Narcissa say. "I don't believe a word of it anyway. I've had no confirmation from my husband, and Dumbledore was a fool to his dying day!" Harry felt anger rising in his throat.

"Believe what you want! There's no denying it," Luci's voice countered, barely recognizable to Harry. His chest tightened. Why was she arguing with Narcissa in the middle of the night?

"I'm starting to think that you are not loyal to the Dark Lord, after all," snarled Narcissa.

After an unpleasant jolt of the heart, Harry gasped aloud.

"My loyalty to Voldemort is none of your business," Luci retorted.

Narcissa hissed at the name, as if she'd been scratched.

"Oh, don't be a coward!"

"It's called respect, you silly girl," Narcissa spat. She paused, but then continued, "You've spent far too much time with Draco and it ends right now. I don't want my son associating with a Mudblood any longer."

"Watch it," Luci warned, coldly.

"I will say what I please," Narcissa growled. "I have no obligation to speak kindly to you."

"If you care at all about Draco, and I know you do, you'll carry on as we planned," Luci replied, sternly.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

Harry jumped, spinning around and coming face-to-face with Malfoy.

"What are _you_ doing?" he stuttered, trying to compose himself, so as not to look guilty.

"I asked you first," Malfoy spat. "Why are you sneaking around outside Luci's room?"

"I'm on my way to the bathroom," Harry answered, gesturing towards it. "I was just…"

Suddenly, the voices in the room elevated. Curious, both of the boys pressed their ears to the door.

"You will never have any relationship with Draco! He is my son and I will protect him!" Narcissa barked.

Luci then yelled back, "He's my brother and _I _can protect him too!"

A stunned moment of silence. Then…

"Your _what_?" Malfoy yelped, throwing open the door. It slammed against the inside wall of the room, the noise echoing through the large space. Harry was sure that the whole house had been awakened.

Narcissa and Luci froze, mouths agape, with their gazes on Harry and Malfoy, who both stood there, wide-eyed, in their pajamas.

"Mother, what in the bloody hell is going on?" Malfoy shrieked. He was staring directly at Luci. Harry could see his fists shaking at his side. He looked down and realized that his own hands were shaking too. _She's Malfoy's sister_. His stomach turned at the thought.

"Draco…" Luci began.

"Is this some kind of _joke_?" Malfoy cut her off, turning his eyes to his mother's face. Narcissa stood in baffled silence.

"It isn't a joke." Luci sounded as if she'd almost choked on the words.

Malfoy's expression was desperate, silently begging his mother for a rationalization.

"I can explain…" Luci whimpered.

"You'll do no such thing," Narcissa snapped suddenly, glaring at her. "I will take care of this."

She walked towards Malfoy, who didn't make another sound, and put a long, scrawny arm around his shoulders. As she led him from the room, she glowered at Harry, who stood motionless in the doorway. Harry watched them walk to the adjoining door and enter the room in which Malfoy was staying.

He slowly turned to face Luci. Her skin was even paler than usual. Her eyes were bright and filled with tears. She looked stunned and helpless, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She met his gaze. "Harry… I'm sorry. I… All this time, I wanted so badly to tell you…"

He took a step back. She took a step forward. "Harry, please…"

Everyone had been right about her. Did he even know her at all? If she shared that blood, he didn't know if he _wanted_ to know her. It was bad blood.

"So it's true?" Harry managed, his voice barely escaping his throat.

She nodded. She was scrutinizing his face, cautiously, as if she were afraid to scare him away.

"But… _how_?" he pleaded.

She took a deep breath and then turned away from him, facing the window.

In the neighboring room, they could hear Malfoy yelling recklessly at his mother.

Harry's legs felt rickety. He walked slowly forward and collapsed onto the end of Luci's bed. Expectantly, he watched her. He could see the moonlight playing upon the side of her face, and he thought that she was more beautiful than he'd ever noticed. This only increased the ache that was quickly filling his entire body.

But his thirst for answers outweighed his anger. He cleared his throat. "So you're a Death Eater?"

She whirled around to face him. The tears had made their way from her eyes to her cheeks, which were now flushed with emotion. Harry felt the overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. Then he shook the thought, realizing that he still had no idea what was going on.

"Oh, god, Harry, no!" she exclaimed.

He must have looked like he didn't believe her, because she marched over to him and raised her sleeve to show him her left forearm.

Harry studied the pale, ivory skin, absolutely flawless and unmarked, and then he looked up at her distrustfully. He'd seen her bare arms innumerable times before. If there was a Dark Mark, it was hidden.

She sighed, removed her small mahogany wand from her pocket, and handed it to him, as though reading his mind.

"_Aparecium_," he murmured.

When nothing appeared, she gave him a look that clearly said, _I told you so_, and paced back towards the window.

"Then I… I don't understand," he stammered, as he watched her pocket her wand again.

Luci shook her head slowly and sniveled, "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Words failed him, as his brain seemed to have jammed. He just looked at her.

"Before you left for the orphanage, you asked me why I was here…" Luci started.

Harry nodded.

"And I told you that it was to report back to the Ministry."

He nodded again.

She looked defeated. "And that was partly the truth… but I'm here because Professor Dumbledore asked me to come."

"Dumbledore?" Harry inquired, in disbelief. "His _portrait_ asked you to come?"

"Of course not."

"But Dumbledore's dead!"

Luci smiled slightly. "Is he?"

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"He contacted me before his death," she went on. "He told me that my family needed me."

"Your _family_?" Harry echoed, shaken, but attempting to understand.

She began hesitantly. "When I started to show signs of magic, my mother was terrified. She hadn't known that she'd been involved with a wizard all of those years ago. See… Lucius spent a few months abroad and took up with my mother. When he found out that she was pregnant, he ran off, and she never saw him again. I imagine it was pretty important to him that no one ever know that he'd had a relationship with a Muggle. He married Narcissa almost immediately when he got back here."

The shock on Harry's face must have prompted Luci to stop. She looked at him, analyzing his expression. "You can ask me anything you want, Harry," she encouraged. "I'm obviously done with hiding."

"It just explains… so many things…" Harry trailed off. He remembered Narcissa calling Luci a Mudblood, the whispered conversations he'd witnessed, and Luci's reluctance, numerous times, to give him straight answers. He recalled all of the attention that Luci had paid to Malfoy, and almost laughed aloud at himself for ever being jealous.

"Malfoy's father must have known that it would come back to haunt him eventually," he pointed out.

Luci shook her head. "He was very young, and I don't think that he was the same person then as he is now. I think he was just scared. His pure bloodline was always important to him, even then." She paced in the path of moonlight that streamed through the window, her pale skin and hair aglow.

Harry was silent. He had so many questions, but he didn't know where to start, and his mind was muddled.

She took another deep breath and continued, speaking slowly, as though weighing every word. "So my mother immediately took me to doctors and specialists, who knew nothing, of course. Finally, one day, one of them referred her to a school in Europe for children with similar 'disorders,' he called them. That's when she got in touch with Professor Dumbledore. I assume he told her that Lucius had gotten married and had a son. I don't really know the details at that point - I was young - but the two of them managed to put the pieces together. I went on with my life. I went to school and became an Auror. It was always in the back of my head that I had a brother and a father, but I… I never thought I'd meet either of them." She was wringing her hands, anxiously.

She moved towards Harry and sat down on the bed beside him. Somehow, the moon dust still shone on her face, even though they were both now sitting in shadows.

"So why would Dumbledore ask you to come here after all of that time?" Harry asked.

"It was the best way to protect my brother from Voldemort, after all the trouble he'd gotten himself into."

Harry was confused. "But how would Dumbledore know that Malfoy would need your protection? None of it had happened yet."

Luci looked down at her lap and chewed on her thumbnail. She seemed to be trying to find the right words. She sighed and glanced sympathetically up into his eyes. "Dumbledore knew that he was going to die, Harry."

Harry's heart began to race so fast that it hurt. "What are you talking about?"

She placed her hand over his, running a finger over the engraved words: _I must not tell lies_. An oddly warm shiver crawled up his arm as their skin met.

"It had to happen," she whispered.

He pulled away, standing up suddenly, the bed scooting noisily across the floor. "He… _planned_ it?" Harry asked quietly, but he knew that the anger was evident in his voice. He felt like he was suffocating, his insides writhing.

"Not exactly," Luci said, standing and moving closer to him. "Dumbledore knew that Voldemort had sent my brother to kill him. He knew that Draco would try. And he had to protect him. He had to make sure that Draco didn't have blood on his hands."

"What about me?" Harry cried. "What about protecting _me_?" He became aware of hot tears on his face and looked away in embarrassment, wiping madly at them.

He felt Luci's hand on his arm, gently drawing him back to face her. He surrendered.

"He knew that you had a journey to travel on your own," Luci spoke soothingly, tears sliding down her face, as well. "He couldn't help you anymore. And he knew that you were ready."

"But I'm not ready!" moaned Harry.

"Of course, you are! Look how far you've come, on your _own_," Luci responded. He saw the faith in her eyes, and he almost believed her.

Looking away, Harry swallowed. Everything was coming together in his mind. It all made terrible sense. Malfoy was her brother. He felt the familiar contempt in his gut. Dumbledore had asked Snape to kill him, so that Malfoy wouldn't have to do it. He remembered Hagrid telling him the previous year that Dumbledore had asked Snape to do something that he hadn't wanted to do and they had argued. Anguish boiled inside of Harry.

"God, I…" Luci had begun, but Harry cut her off.

"Why didn't anyone stop him?" he asked, hearing his voice become uncharacteristically shrill. "Why did he have to die?"

He replayed the fateful night in his head, for what had to be the millionth time. He thought he might be sick. He felt his legs buckle. Swiftly, Luci's arms were around him, guiding him back a few feet onto the bed. She sat down beside him again and he saw the concern in her furrowed brow.

"He had his reasons." Her voice was tender. "I don't know what they were."

Harry was silent for a while, allowing Luci to stroke his right arm softly, though he didn't know why she was doing it. To soothe him, he supposed.

Finally, he asked, trying to keep his voice even, "So that's who you were talking to in your fireplace? Malfoy's dad? I mean… _your_ dad." He'd almost choked on that last bit.

"No, that wasn't who I was talking to."

"It wasn't?" asked Harry suspiciously.

Luci laughed bitterly. "Do you really think my father would have anything to do with me? I'm his greatest shame. He doesn't even know I'm here." She paused. "Well, he might know now that he's out."

Harry frowned. "Then, who?"

She hesitated.

"I thought you said you were done with hiding?"

Biting her lip, she remained silent.

"Dumbledore again? Someone was in the fire in his office," Harry prompted.

Luci nodded in defeat. "That was me, yes, but… most times… I was talking to Severus."

"Snape?" Harry exclaimed, pulling his arm from her grasp.

She nodded again, fear skittering across her features.

"The _coward_ who killed Dumbledore?" he asked, his voice and temper rising in unison.

Luci looked nervously at him. "Severus didn't _want_ to do it, Harry. He did it for Draco and he did it because Dumbledore asked him to. I think it's killing him." She shook her head, as if out of pity.

Then she said softly, "And don't call him a coward."

"_What_?" shrieked Harry, which caused Luci to shoot away from him in surprise.

He glared at her. "I can't believe you could defend Snape!"

"Look," she started. "I know you and he don't like each other, and I agree that he's not a warm person, but he only did what was asked of him… and I have to be grateful that he saved my brother. And he's been… since I've gotten here… I've been able to depend on him."

"Snape has you all fooled," hissed Harry. "He's a _murderer_."

"Murdering someone doesn't make you a bad person," said Luci.

"Sorry?" he demanded, appalled, his tone stifled by emotions. He was trying to refrain from shouting.

"You're going to murder Voldemort, aren't you?"

"That's different! _I'm_ not evil! _Snape_ _is_ evil!" he snarled.

"What is _wrong_ with you, Harry?" Luci spat back. "Is it impossible for you to see anything from any other viewpoint than your own?"

Harry felt his mouth fall open. He was sure that the hurt was evident on his face.

She sighed. "There are just aspects of this that you don't understand."

"Oh, and _you_ do?" retorted Harry, his rage becoming difficult to control.

Luci blinked, but her expression remained calm.

"Don't you think you've lied to me enough?" he barked.

She looked as if he'd slapped her.

"I… I didn't mean that… I just…"

Harry took a sharp breath. His skull was throbbing. He put a hand to his forehead. Loathing filled his chest as he tried to grasp all of the things that Luci was saying. Intuition told him not to trust Snape or Malfoy. Yet, Luci trusted them both. And he trusted her. Whose side was she on? The room was spinning.

"I need some time, Luci," Harry murmured, rising slowly to his feet, gripping the back of the bed to steady himself. "You and Malfoy and Snape… it's just… a lot."

Luci nodded sympathetically, standing to face him, and when she spoke, there was a note of agony in her voice. "Please don't hate me."

Stunned, Harry stammered, "I… I don't… hate you…"

"I need you to know that I'm still the same person. The same girl from the drawing room. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this in the beginning. My brother was my priority at that point and I didn't know that I'd meet you and…"

She stopped and seemed to redirect herself. She sniffed. "Now that he knows, it could be a disaster."

Harry looked at her, and he could see the lament in her face. Had her priorities changed?

"You'd better go talk to him," he said then. "It'll be better coming from you."

Luci nodded, mopping the tears from her face with her sleeve. "I hope you're right."

She started towards the door, but then turned back. "Thank you for hearing me out."

He nodded wearily.

She stood gazing at him for a few moments before saying, "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Luci."

As he watched her leave, he realized, all of a sudden, that he was exhausted. Emotionally and physically drained, he meandered back to his room, forgetting entirely that he'd meant to stop by the bathroom.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Flight of the Malfoys

**Chapter Twenty-One – Flight of the Malfoys**

Sunlight shone through Harry's window, playing upon his face and waking him. Ron was still sleeping. He thought it must be quite early, so he rolled over onto his stomach and closed his eyes again. The previous night was clear in his head. He'd meant to contemplate it all before falling asleep, but he'd been unable to stay conscious.

_She's Malfoy's sister_, his brain reminded him, causing an acidic sensation in his gut.

_But she's different_, he argued with himself.

_Or was it all an act?_

_No, she's still the same girl who makes you feel like you're flying when there's not a broomstick in sight_, he told himself. Then he smiled at the maudlin notion.

Feeling downright silly, and unable to take any more time alone with his thoughts, Harry stretched and clambered out of his bed, retrieving his glasses and sliding them onto his nose. He wondered what scene would greet him when he went downstairs. In fact, he wasn't sure what he would do when he had to face her. Would he still see her the same way?

He quickly dressed and made his way to the kitchen. The house was quiet. He heard the clinking of eating utensils as he approached. Lupin and Tonks sat there alone. Dread gripped Harry. Maybe she'd gone, after the terrible way he'd treated her. But it was early still. Maybe she was just sleeping late, due to being up most of the night.

"Where is… everyone?" he faltered.

Lupin looked up. "Good morning to you too." He frowned. "Is there something wrong?"

Harry hesitated.

"I'm sure it's none of our business, Remus," said Tonks, a twinkle in her eye.

"Right," agreed Lupin, returning her smile.

Harry sighed. "Did you know Luci was Malfoy's sister?"

Lupin exchanged a troubled glance with Tonks, who said, "Your territory, not mine," and walked away.

"Who told you that?" asked Lupin.

"I overheard."

"Sit down, Harry," he said gently.

Harry complied, walking over and taking a seat.

"There are people who can't know about this…" Lupin began.

But Harry cut across him. "Malfoy's heard already. He was pretty upset."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "I see. And can you tell me why _you're_ so upset about it?"

Harry feigned disinterest. "I'm not upset about _that_. I don't care who or what she is. I just want to know why no one tells me anything that's going on in my own house."

Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room with cheery good-morning wishes and immediately began about the business of breakfast.

"We only keep things from you for your own good," Lupin explained in hushed tones.

"My own good," Harry repeated. "That's what they tell me."

"You keep a lot of things bottled up inside, Harry, so I know that you can understand why we don't tell you everything," continued Lupin. "And it's perfectly all right if you _do_ care about Luci."

Harry scowled, but Lupin grinned.

"So much like your father… You know, he adored Lily, even though she was very friendly with Severus, and we all warned him that anyone that close to such a strange person must have something wrong with her. We were mistaken, of course. And you are sheltering your feelings for Luci the same way that your father did for your mother. He often threw me that identical glare."

Harry, who had been listening attentively, took a deep breath.

Lupin carried on, "I'm out of the loop here, but your father was right to follow his heart. You inherited great instincts, Harry. Think. Have they ever failed you?"

Was Lupin _encouraging_ him to pursue Luci? It would be a first from anyone in this house.

At this moment, Ron entered the kitchen and groggily sat down beside Harry, oblivious that he was interrupting a very important conversation.

"Didn't sleep too well last night," he muttered. "You?"

"No," said Harry.

"We'll talk later," Lupin said with a smile, and he stood and walked away.

"Did I miss something?" asked Ron, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, actually."

Hermione and Ginny came in together, seating themselves across from Harry and Ron.

"Harry says we missed something," said Ron through a yawn.

"Sorry?" asked Hermione.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged.

"Luci," said Harry.

Ginny let out a low growl.

A pang of guilt pierced Harry's chest. But he was coming to terms with it - he wanted Luci. He couldn't help it. None of it mattered anyway. He was a marked man. Besides that, Luci still thought that he was the _boy_ who lived. And she was Malfoy's _sister_. There could never be anything between them. He would just have to get over this preposterousness. He'd be crazy about Ginny again in no time. He was sure of it.

"What about her?" Hermione asked.

Harry wavered, but then responded quietly, "I found out last night that she's Malfoy's sister."

"What?" all three of them shrieked together, as Bill and Fleur swept into the room.

"Keep it down!" Harry shushed them. "Everyone here knew but us anyway."

"This is brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "How does it work?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "What happened, Harry?"

He took a bite of the toast that Mrs. Weasley had placed in front of him and mumbled his thanks to her. "Lucius Malfoy had an affair with a Muggle, and that Muggle was Luci's mum."

"That's impossible," Hermione snorted, incredulously. "The Malfoys hate anyone who isn't Pure-Blood."

"Well, now we know why," replied Harry. "It's all an act, isn't it? No one would suspect that Malfoy's dad had a Half-Blood daughter."

"Excellent!" Ron grinned through a hearty bite of eggs. "Does Malfoy know?"

"Yeah, we found out at the same time, and he didn't take it very well."

"Figures," said Ron.

"_How_ did you find out?" Ginny asked.

Harry didn't look at her, but he replied, "I couldn't sleep. I ended up in the hall with Malfoy and we overheard it all. The worst of it is that Dumbledore basically planned his own murder."

"What?" they said again.

So Harry explained what Dumbledore had told Luci, including why she was here in the first place. He didn't mention that Luci was in contact with Snape, however.

"Dumbledore informs _one_ person of his plans to have Snape kill him, and it's some girl no one's ever heard of?" asked Ginny. "Harry, you were close to Dumbledore, and he didn't mention anything to you, so why a stranger? Sounds to me like she's fed you a load of bollocks."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, it would be necessary, wouldn't it?" said Ron. "She would want to know why Malfoy needed her protection."

"Oh, don't defend her!" Ginny retaliated.

Ron blinked. "I'm not defending her."

"I hate that girl," mumbled Ginny.

Harry was thunderstruck. Ginny got on with _everyone_. He'd never met anyone who didn't like her, aside from Malfoy, who was a dolt, and she was congenial to everyone in return.

"Ginny, we've talked about this," Hermione was saying. "Just let it run its course."

Ginny's nostrils flared. "But she _promised_ me!"

"Let _what_ run its course?" asked Harry.

Hermione looked furtively at Ginny.

"Your stupid crush," spat the redhead.

"You're talking about me behind my back?" exclaimed Harry.

"Oh, Harry, it's not like that," Hermione replied.

"Right," he said.

"Look, we're sorry that the lines of communication haven't exactly been _open_ between all of us. Luci comes along and you're telling _her_ all of your secrets! Poor Ginny has been a wreck!"

She got up angrily. "Sorry, Ginny," she said, and stomped away from the table.

Ron gave Harry a chastising look and then followed Hermione out of the room. Both of them had entirely forgotten their breakfasts and Mrs. Weasley was now staring suspiciously in Harry's direction.

He looked at Ginny and she was crimson with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, imagining his face was quite the same color.

She shrugged and said sadly, "We ended things. And I gave up on you weeks ago."

"What? Why?"

She was refusing to look at him. "You said her name in your sleep. Once, when I was watching over you. I tried to convince myself that you were just delirious, but after a while of paying attention, I knew."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just mumbled, "I'm sorry, Ginny," again.

"Is there anything going on between you?" she asked quietly.

"No," he answered.

"But you'd like there to be?"

Harry didn't respond, and instead, regarded his plate with feigned interest. They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Then Ginny slowly rose, and with her back to him, dashed from the kitchen.

Harry finished his breakfast alone, listening to Bill and Fleur as they told Charlie, who had also come down to the kitchen, about the new house they'd recently purchased, and how they were planning on moving in the following day.

None of the Malfoys made an appearance in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place that morning.

* * *

When Harry returned to his room, he found Ron waiting for him.

"So you're just going to break my little sister's heart?" he greeted him.

"We broke up!" Harry defended himself.

"Yeah, so you could go save the world," countered Ron, "not so you could go find someone else!"

"I haven't found someone else," Harry snapped. "We're just friends."

"Oh, come off it, Harry! I see how you look at her. I just want to know why my sister isn't good enough for you anymore."

"Ron, you're being an idiot."

"An idiot?" Ron scoffed. "Listen, I put up with you dating Ginny, but I never liked it. Let's face it, Harry; you're not normal. And you did exactly what I knew you would – you hurt her."

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"But you did."

Harry turned his eyes to the floor.

"Will you just promise me that you won't start anything with Luci? It would crush Ginny."

"I can't promise that." Harry paused. "I think I love her."

Ron eyed him skeptically, and Harry could barely meet his gaze. "You're joking."

He shook his head.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore.

"It just happened," Harry tried to explain.

"And she feels the same?"

"Dunno. Haven't said anything."

"Are you _sure_? Maybe you just _think_ you love her because you can't have her," Ron suggested matter-of-factly, crossing his arms satisfactorily in front of his chest.

Harry looked up at him, suddenly very angry. "I know how I feel," he said, between gritted teeth.

"You just told us she's a Malfoy! Doesn't that make a difference?"

"She's not like them," he spat. "She's…"

"You hardly know her!"

"That's not true; we've spent loads of time together!" Harry countered.

"What do you know about her?" asked Ron. "Half of it, you found out last night!"

"Maybe, but I know how I feel," Harry said again.

"This is mental!" exclaimed Ron.

"Look, I _know_ it sounds crazy, but I've tried to fight it and deny it and everything else, and I just can't make it go away."

"Then how do you know it's real? You wouldn't _want_ to fight it."

Harry shook his head in frustration. "Well, how did you know with Hermione?"

Ron averted his eyes. "I just… felt it…"

"And how long were the two of _you_ in denial?" Harry pointed out.

"Years."

"Right."

"Does your chest hurt?" Ron asked abruptly.

"I… _what_?"

Ron's face reddened. "Hermione," he hesitated. "Sometimes, she…" He put a hand to his torso, but didn't continue.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

They looked at each other for a moment.

Then Ron shrugged. "You're my best mate, Harry. And I really do like Luci. But Ginny's my _sister_."

"I know."

"So there's no hope for the pair of you?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I was never any good at Divination, Ron."

"But you're going to date Luci now?" Ron questioned.

"I haven't told Luci anything. And since it's not safe for me to date _anyone_, I'm not _going_ to tell her. I broke up with Ginny because I'm dangerous. So how can I turn around and put Luci in danger instead?"

"So you're going to wait this out? Maybe it'll go away?"

With a sigh, Harry responded, "Yeah, I'm going to wait. I'm not sure if I can take the rejection on top of everything else that's going on anyway."

Ron shifted his weight uncomfortably. After a few moments, he advised, "You should tell her how you feel."

Harry was bemused. "Y-you think?"

His best friend nodded. "But this doesn't mean that I'm not bloody furious at you for hurting Ginny."

"Fair enough."

"And now I have to worry about her rebounding towards some prat who doesn't deserve her, and that's your fault, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Ron, I…"

But Ron cut him off, muttering, "Good luck with Luci," and leaving the room.

Harry, feeling arrantly guilty about upsetting Ron, but also somehow encouraged, ceased battling his desires and finally made his decision.

* * *

Harry rapped softly on Luci's door. _He was going to tell her!_ He was going to tell her how he felt, and then he was going to finally kiss her and make sure that she knew that things were okay between them. He was going to inform her that it wasn't safe for them to start anything now, but that he wanted to be with her, as soon as Voldemort was dead. And he was going to hope that she felt the same way about him. Otherwise, Harry was about to make quite a fool out of himself. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it might jump from his chest.

But there was no answer. Was she still asleep? Malfoy and his mother hadn't emerged from their rooms either.

He pushed open the door and peered inside. Luci wasn't there. In fact, he noticed that many of her things were missing. He felt his racing heart plummet into his stomach. Where was she?

Darting into the hall, he threw open the rooms where Malfoy and his mother had been staying. They were empty, as well. The Malfoys had gone.


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo: The First Taste

**Chapter Twenty-Two – The First Taste**

Harry had been unable to sleep. Passion was surging through him, tightening every nerve in his body. Though he knew that it was somewhere around three o'clock in the morning, he had dressed again and went to the drawing room. He sat there, alone, with an open book on his lap, but he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. What would be the point? He could hardly see straight anyway, due to the ire. He couldn't believe that she had left with Malfoy and his mother. Their friendship had meant nothing to her.

In his hands, he was turning over a lovely silver quill that Luci had left in her room. It smelled like her, like a sweet shop. Maybe he'd never see her again. How could she go before they'd had a chance? He'd wasted so much time, fighting with himself. Now, he very much felt like fighting with _her_.

He knew he should go to bed, and he was certainly worn out, but the sofa was so cozy, and his eyelids were so heavy, but not as heavy as his legs…

The noise of a hinge creaking. He had dozed off. He looked out to see the light on in Luci's room, the door standing partly ajar. A powerful surge of some intense emotion shot through him, half anger, half excitement. He scrambled from his chair, the book and quill forgotten, and stalked down the hallway.

"Welcome back."

Luci gasped and stopped cold in her tracks, dropping something onto the floor. She turned slowly to face him, and her expression was definitely one of panic, like a caged animal.

He was so angry with her that he felt as if he might detonate on the spot. He clenched his hands to stop them shaking.

"Harry…" she began.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" he shouted at her.

She staggered backwards into the desk. She looked terrible, completely exhausted, her eyes puffy and bloodshot.

"I… Draco disappeared… I had to go after him! He's not safe!"

"And you couldn't bother telling me?"

"I thought you pretty much never wanted to see me again, so I just… left…"

"That's mental, Luci, I…" He broke off. He wasn't going to reassure her. Not this time. "If you thought that, why did you come back?"

"Because I couldn't find him. I need help."

"No one here cares about him, so you'll have to go somewhere else for your help."

Luci made a noise that sounded a bit like she was being strangled, and then nodded slowly.

Harry felt guilt creeping in, but he pushed it away.

She said softly, "So you _do_ hate me."

He sighed and ran a hand over his throbbing left temple. "You know that's not true."

Neither of them said anything, but she was staring at him with a strange expression that he couldn't distinguish.

"What happened with Malfoy?"

She shook her head. "Well, _he_ hates me, anyway. He was too arrogant to listen, and Narcissa was furious, so they ran off. I've been trying desperately to find them and I've looked everywhere. I finally decided that I needed to regroup."

"Why didn't you go to your good friend, Snape?" he spat at her, trying to ignore the sorrow in her voice and his own impulse to take her into his arms.

"Harry, I told you, I'm sorry that I didn't spill everything. What more can I do?"

"This isn't about you and Malfoy. This is about you leaving here without even considering me. I thought I'd never see you again," he said hotly.

"So did I. I meant for it to be goodbye."

Harry blinked, literally feeling his heart _ache_ with misery. "_Luci_…"

She took a shuddering breath and didn't look at him.

"Has it all meant _nothing_ to you?"

"No! Just the opposite," she whimpered.

"The _opposite_? That doesn't make any sense. Why would you-"

"I'm such a disaster, Harry," she cut him off. "It'd be _better_ if you never saw me again."

"How can you say that?"

"You're so angry…" Luci said abjectly.

"What do you expect, after all you've done?" he exploded suddenly.

She bit her lip and swallowed. Her voice was trembling when she spoke. "I don't have the right to expect anything. All I have the right to do is try to leave here without ruining anything more in my wake."

Her eyes anywhere but on his face, Luci hastily went to the desk and picked up a few items before starting towards the door. But he couldn't sustain his fury at her and he couldn't let her walk out, so he seized her arm before she could pass him.

She stopped but still refused to meet his gaze. They stood there silently for what must have been several minutes, his hand on her pale skin, their bodies almost touching, her breathing shallow and quick, as if she was frightened. There was so much energy between them that it was making Harry lightheaded. He was too scared to ask if she felt it too.

At last, he took a deep breath. "Why did you leave without saying anything to me? I thought we… I mean… Did you really think that I never wanted to see you again?"

She finally glanced up at him, and then replied, hesitantly, "Yes. I thought you'd be happy to get rid of the daughter of a Death Eater."

He clenched his jaw. When she said it like that, it made him want to throw up.

"No, I… We were friends, weren't we?"

"_Aren't_ we?"

He said nothing.

"I don't know how we can be," Luci continued, shaking her head. "I've wrecked it all. And there are too many 'I'm sorry's for me to say. I can't expect you to ever forgive me for everything. And I know that you'll never see me the same way, now that you know. But can't you see why I didn't tell you? Don't you wish that you'd never found out?"

Harry didn't know how to respond to this. She was wrong – he didn't wish that he'd never found out; he wished that it wasn't true.

"So I _will_ go find my help elsewhere," she said, when he didn't respond. "Thank you for… everything. I can't tell you what… what it's meant to me…"

"So you're just going to leave me again?" He still had a firm grip on her arm.

"Leave _you_?" Her eyes darted back up in surprise, searching his face.

He inhaled, holding her stare. "Yes."

"Harry… I've hurt you so much and I never meant to and I'm so unbelievably sorry. All I wanted was to keep Draco safe, and now, so many other things have become important, and I've done everything wrong, and I'm just… I shouldn't have left without saying anything. I was just so scared of what you must think of me and I couldn't bare to face you and I'm just spineless in general and I'm sorry, I really am. I wish that we could start over."

She meant it. She had barely made it through the dialogue, and there were tears in her eyes as she gazed remorsefully up at him. Her body was still only inches from his. Harry, forgetting his rage, realized now that he couldn't go any longer without knowing what it felt like to kiss her. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. He almost expected her to shove him away, but, instead, after a soft noise of surprise and after dropping everything in her hands, he was thrilled to feel her kiss him back. Electricity shot through his body. He became aware of a feeling that he'd never known; it was as if nothing terrible had ever happened to him. He was just here, in this single moment, and there was nothing else.

He began to pull her closer, her body heat seeping into his skin, but she broke their kiss and took a step back, almost tumbling over the items on the floor.

"No, no…" She looked up at him. They were both breathing deeply.

"No?" he repeated, dazed.

"What does this mean, Harry?" she asked, carefully.

This simple question seemed to weight the air heavily.

Harry wanted to tell her what it really meant to him. But he couldn't slow his blood after the rush, and his head was buzzing, so instead, he stammered, "I've just… wanted to kiss you…"

Luci raised an eyebrow. "I see." She had a hand to her stomach.

They stared at each other for a silent moment. This wasn't going right at all.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, turning away from him. "This is _so_ wrong!" Then, looking even more panicked, she gasped, "I'm going to lose my job."

"I'm of age, Luci," Harry helplessly reminded her, hoping that this would make a difference.

"Yes, but I'm still a Ministry Official and you're still a Hogwarts student!" she said, continuing to look fretful and avoiding his gaze.

He could say so much, but he didn't know where to start, so he just stood there and watched her.

"What about you and Ginny?"

"There is no 'me and Ginny,'" he replied.

"Oh, god, she'll think I…" She didn't continue, only kept pacing back and forth.

Finally, she stopped, faced him, and declared, "We can't do this, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because… it's… inappropriate," Luci said, slowly, but she sounded unconvinced.

"But you _do_ feel something for me?" His voice was shaking. He still couldn't cool his lips.

She shook her head. "This is all my fault… If I'd known this was happening…" But she trailed off.

"What?"

"I would have stayed away from you. I _should_ have."

Harry could see that she was biting down on the insides of her cheeks.

"Why?" he asked.

She looked trapped. "Just let it go, Harry."

"No."

"Please. Just… You need to go." She sounded as if she were pleading with him.

"Not until you tell me the truth. Don't you… I mean… there's _something_ here, isn't there?"

She murmured an inaudible reply and stared at the floor.

"Look at me," demanded Harry. She couldn't possibly be this distressed if she didn't feel _something_…

Luci finally looked up at him, and the color in her eyes had changed. Then she responded in a very hollow voice, "I don't feel the same."

A wave of humiliation hit Harry powerfully in the stomach.

"But, Luci, I…"

She stopped him. "I don't."

"You're lying. _Again_. Why can't you ever be straight with me?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes. She simply said, "Just go."

He gaped at her for an instant, and then said quickly, "Fine," and moved towards the door.

"Harry."

He kept his hand on the doorknob and didn't turn to face her.

"I'm… so sorry. You have no idea."

"You're always sorry," he spat.

Harry couldn't see her expression, but she made a muffled noise.

"Just… stay here tonight, OK?"

Then, with a heavy heart, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Harry had pulled the quilt up over his head. He couldn't believe he'd done it. His lips still burned. Part of him was elated; the other mortified. She had rejected him. But she _had_ kissed him back… hadn't she? Was she incapable of telling the truth, or _was_ that the truth, and she really felt nothing for him? He was so confused. He'd finally made up his mind that he… well, that he was in _love_ with her. And now this.

He was running it over in his head, for what had to be the tenth time, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the memory. Then, all of a sudden, he heard voices downstairs. They were a mixture of hurried whispers and shrieking tones, one of which was definitely Sirius's mum. Ron had woken, as well. They exchanged a questioning look and, as Harry hastily threw on his glasses, together, they rushed out of the room.

All three landings were filling with curious murmurs as everyone emerged from their rooms. Luci had hurried out, as well, and, at the sound of her name on Narcissa's elevated voice, stopped near Harry and Ron.

"_Now_ she wants my help," Luci grumbled to them.

They both smirked.

"Luci!" Narcissa repeated in a panic. "He's taken Draco! The Dark Lord has taken him!"

Harry heard Luci gasp and felt her grip his wrist. His heart skipped a beat at her touch. He glanced at her, and the little color she had was faded from her face. She quickly let go and hurried past him and Ron down the stairs.

"We're going after him," she stated resolutely, as she took the steps two at a time.

"We can't do that," Narcissa moaned. "He'll kill us all!"

"Well, we have to try, don't we? We can't just leave him there!"

Harry could tell that Luci was choking back her terror as she spoke.

"It's too late!" Narcissa shrieked. "He'll kill my Draco!"

"No, he won't," Bill said from the side of the room. "The Malfoy boy is bait."

"Bait for whom?" asked Mr. Weasley.

Bill's gaze moved up to where Harry stood motionless on the second landing. All eyes followed.

"Me?" Harry exclaimed. "Why would I care if he had Malfoy?"

Then he stopped, looking down at Luci, who had tears in her eyes. Voldemort knew. Of course, he did. He and Harry were connected. Damn if he hadn't tried harder to learn Occlumency.

The room was silent. Harry took a deep breath. "We'd better be off then," he sighed.

"But Harry," he heard Hermione call from the landing below. "What about… you know?"

Harry considered this. "It'll have to wait."

* * *

Luci had insisted that they leave Grimmauld Place immediately, but Mrs. Weasley had forbid it. She had said that they needed a distress signal, and Hermione had suggested her own clever Galleon method. The members of the Order had finally agreed to this, after much argument, and Hermione was upstairs, charming the coin. Her only condition was that she and Ron would accompany Harry and Luci to the Ministry of Magic. Narcissa had pointed them to this location, claiming that she knew it was a holding quarter for captives of the Death Eaters. Harry found this fishy, but Luci was unrelenting, babbling that they needed to get there as quickly as possible. He figured that they wouldn't find anything at the Ministry and would have to search elsewhere, but he wasn't really in a hurry to find Malfoy anyway.

Harry had dressed alongside Ron, snatching the two-way mirrors before he returned downstairs. If they were going to the Ministry of Magic, he _had_ to find out about that veil.

Back in the kitchen, he found Luci, fully dressed and whispering with Charlie, who was still in his nightclothes. He didn't catch anything that they were saying, but they looked pretty cozy.

Harry made an obnoxious noise.

The pair of them glanced contritely up at him. Then, without another word, Charlie scooted from the room.

"You know this isn't going to be easy?" Harry said to Luci, deciding that this was not the time to confront her about Charlie.

She was looking at him, but she didn't reply. She had put two fingers to her lips and a distance had appeared in her eyes.

"Luci?"

She seemed to snap out of it. "Sorry… what?"

"You don't have to come with us."

The idea of the four of them leaving unaided grated on Harry. If he were going by himself, it would be different, but this would put the three people he cared about most in grave danger, and the thought made Harry feel like he was plunging into concavity.

"That's crazy. Of course, I'm coming with you. I've gotta get Draco out of there. I'm the only one who cares what happens to him."

"You're right, I don't care about Malfoy."

Luci looked at him pleadingly. "Do you care about _me_?"

"You know I do."

"OK then," she said tartly.

"You're… important to me."

"Harry, please don't do this right now."

"No, listen to me," he commanded.

She nodded grudgingly.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you feel the same. Voldemort knows how _I_ feel and that means that you could possibly be killed."

Suddenly, he realized that he'd broken up with Ginny for absolutely no reason. Voldemort would have known his feelings, despite whether or not they were dating, just as he knew Harry's feelings now.

"I don't care, Harry. He's my brother and I have to go after him."

Once again, he'd laid his heart on the table and Luci had totally disregarded it. It was fantastically depressing, and his stomach ached. He thought maybe she had just been hiding her feelings, but now he considered that she really might not feel anything for him. Malfoy had always been first with her. Harry had never had a chance.

"Fine," he spat coldly.

"I should tell you…" began Luci.

"What?"

Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply, but she didn't say anything.

"_What_?" he asked again, and when she simply blinked at him, he growled, "God, you're doing my head in!"

"We're ready," interrupted Ron, as he, Hermione, and Ginny entered the kitchen. "Mum has the Galleon, and the Order will come if we need them."

"And the D.A.?" asked Harry, wishing he'd been able to continue his conversation with Luci, even though it was impossible to pull anything out of her.

"We'll get the message," Ginny replied, looking warmly at Harry.

Before anyone could say another word, she marched over to him and threw her arms around him. He had a sudden panic that she was going to kiss him, but she just murmured in his ear, "Please be careful, Harry."

At a loss for words, he merely nodded. Then, to his further shock, she turned to Luci and said, "Good luck finding your brother."

Luci's mouth fell open, but then she recovered and stammered, "Th-thank you, Ginny."

"All right," sighed Harry, "let's go rescue someone we don't even like."


	23. Chapter TwentyThree: The Chipretta

**Chapter Twenty-Three – The Chipretta**

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luci Apparated onto a dark, cold street, facing the battered telephone box that would take them into the Ministry.

They looked around apprehensively. The sense of foreboding increased as Harry saw that the street was deserted. It was very early morning, however, and he comforted himself with the thought that people just weren't out and about quite yet.

"Come on," Luci said in a hushed voice, and they followed her across the street and into the telephone box. Ron pulled the metal door closed behind all of them.

Harry took the receiver and dialed the familiar numbers: 6 2 4 4 2. The cool female voice greeted him. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Luci Keegan… um… looking for Draco Malfoy?"

Luci smiled up at Harry, and he could tell that it was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but it had looked more fearful than anything else. He obeyed the instinct that had flitted into his brain, and he put an arm around her. He didn't care that Hermione gave him a disapproving glance.

The operator's voice interrupted the warm feeling that had wrapped itself around Harry. "Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

The badges appeared in the coin chute, and Harry retrieved them, as the voice continued, "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Yes, we know," sighed Harry.

Then the telephone box began to quake and the pavement rose up past the glass windows, taking the four of them down into further darkness. Harry kept his arm draped upon Luci's shoulders and he felt her press her body against him. He could hardly focus and thought, to himself, that this hadn't been the brightest idea. He should have insisted that she stay behind.

"I'm scared," Luci whispered suddenly, "just so all of you know."

Ron and Hermione gaped at her, and Harry replied, "You're an _Auror_," as if that had been the silliest thing he'd ever heard.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "Courage was never my strength."

"Well, it's _mine_," he reassured her.

"We're Gryffindors for a reason," Ron nodded proudly.

The booth came to a halt, with the cool voice chiming cordially, "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day." The doors burst open to reveal the Atrium, with its many fireplaces. There wasn't a soul in sight.

Harry stepped out into the corridor, but immediately shoved himself back in, knocking Luci, who had been following him, to the floor of the telephone box.

"What the…" she asked breathlessly, as Harry began frantically pounding on the button to close the doors.

But it was too late.

The Dementor cornered them into the box. Harry fumbled for his wand, but he could already hear the roaring sound of rushing water filling his head, and he began to feel the life being sucked out of him. He struggled to stay on his feet, but the bitter cold was draining his energy, and he felt his legs wobbling. For some reason, everything around him appeared to have been painted a strange ginger color, as if he were looking through orange lenses.

Behind him, he could hear the others yelling at one another, and then someone screamed, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

The darkness was slowly hollowing Harry and he was weak, but he became aware of a sinewy, translucent panther sprinting past him and straight into the Dementor. But nothing happened. It hovered still, unmoving, above Harry, and he felt it continuing to consume him. His head became filled with his mother's desperate screams and Voldemort's heartless laughter. He gripped the door of the telephone box.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the sensation dissolved, the room returned to its original colors, and Luci was standing in front of him. The Dementor had vanished, but frigid water was rising all around the four of them. What was going on?

Luci was waving her wand frenetically at the water, chanting something that Harry couldn't understand.

"What is this?" he shouted in panic.

Luci didn't answer. The water was up to her waist now and she was mumbling more quickly, madly flicking her wand at the pool surrounding her. She was breathing heavily and tears were cascading down her face.

Harry just stood there, watching her, completely at a loss for words or actions. Ron and Hermione seemed to be having the same reaction.

Then Luci howled, "I can't do it!" and lowered her wand.

Hermione, obviously coming into comprehension, yelled, "Yes, you can!" and stepped up behind her, beginning to brandish her own wand in the same fashion. Harry noticed that she had been careful not to stand next to Luci. Was this a Boggart, changing for each person who came before it?

Luci unsteadily began again, ostensibly encouraged but still shaking with fear. Both girls seemed to be concentrating with all of their might, and to his surprise, Harry saw that the water was finally receding, if only slightly.

"Can we help?" Ron asked anxiously.

Hermione held up a hand, as if to silence him, and kept at it. The pool was definitely shrinking significantly now.

Harry watched as it all appeared to evaporate around them. Eventually, there was nothing left but a few puddles upon the marble floor. At this point, Luci's body crumpled backwards into Harry's arms. He slid her gently onto the floor. He could hear her heart pounding in the silence.

She wearily opened her eyes. "Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione, who looked equally drained, nodded and leaned against the wall of the telephone box.

"What _was_ that?" asked Harry. "Everything was… orange."

"A Chipretta," Luci sighed weakly.

"Ky-_what_?"

She sat up slowly, but Harry kept a hand against her back for support.

"Chipretta," Hermione echoed.

"I thought it was a Boggart…"

Luci shook her head. "Your greatest fear isn't a Dementor, is it?"

"My greatest fear is fear."

She smiled faintly. "As it should be."

Hermione was drying all of them with her wand, and she had moved from Ron to Harry.

"Yours isn't?" Harry asked, not paying attention, but grateful to be dry again.

Luci looked at him hesitantly. "Mine is loss."

Harry stared at her for a moment. Loss was something that he knew terribly well.

"A Boggart can't kill you," interjected Hermione. "A Chipretta's sole _purpose_ is to kill you, in the worst way that you can possibly imagine."

Luci nodded. "In your case, a Dementor, even though Dementors don't _actually_ kill you. _That_ one would have."

"Scariest bloody thing I ever heard of," breathed Ron, following a shudder.

Understanding lifted the confusion in Harry's head. "And you're afraid of drowning?"

Luci cringed.

"How did you get rid of it?" he asked, curious.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but, instead, he heard Hermione cry, "Harry!"

"Well, well…" came a cold voice.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood directly in front of Harry, with her hand on the door of the telephone box, preventing it from closing, though it seemed that the water had rusted it permanently open anyway.

Harry stood hastily.

"Hello, baby Potter," she grinned maniacally.

Luci had also gotten to her feet, apparently regaining her strength. She stepped protectively in front of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Still soaking wet, her shoes made a sloshing noise on the cold floor.

"Back off," she hissed at Bellatrix, who laughed callously.

Harry was just thinking, _We can take her_, when a host of hooded Death Eaters appeared behind her.

"I think you lot will be coming with us," said Bellatrix.

"Where's my brother?" Luci replied fiercely.

Bellatrix laughed again, and this time, the rest of the Death Eaters joined her.

With a wicked grin, Bellatrix responded, "We're very pleased you fell for that. You don't think I'd hurt my nephew, do you? Draco is just fine."

Luci shot Harry a terrified, remorseful glance, and then she made a noise as if she were trying not to scream. Still standing between the Death Eaters and the door of the telephone box, Luci growled, "Am _I_ what you want? Then take me. But you let them go."

Bellatrix smiled sadistically. "You think you're important? We have no use for you, though there are some of us who would like to see you dead, if for no other reason than to restore the Malfoy name… No, the Dark Lord wants Potter, and you were stupid enough to bring him here. Selfish, aren't you?"

Before Luci could respond, Bellatrix had seized her by the arm and yanked her from her guarding position. Then several masked Death Eaters grabbed Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the last of whom had dried herself off in the interim, and their captures dragged them from the telephone box and down the hall, past the golden fountain, and towards the lifts. Harry wondered why there were no Ministry staff members to be found. Was it still too early?

The golden grills clanked apart, and the four of them were shoved into a box, followed by Bellatrix and her hooded gang. One of them pressed a button and they began to move slowly, the lift clattering noisily as they went.

Harry felt Luci entwine her fingers into his. She was transferring her weight from one foot to the other, restlessly. _Slosh, slosh._ She had always sent him such mixed signals. He didn't know what to make of this one either, so he just squeezed her hand reassuringly, though he was anything but confident. They were certainly being taken to Lord Voldemort. He wasn't ready for this. Not yet. He needed more time. More strategy. More… preparation.

"Ninth floor, Department of Mysteries," called the pleasant female voice as the lift ceased its traveling.

They all stepped out to face the plain black door that Harry knew so well, Luci dripping a path of water as they walked. Bellatrix flung it open and they were pushed forward into the large circular room with the black marble floors and ceilings. A dozen unmarked doors greeted them.

One of the Death Eaters closed the door behind them and the room was plunged into darkness, lit only by the glow of the blue candles that hung between each of the doors. Suddenly, the walls began to rotate, but Bellatrix commanded, "The room, please."

A door directly to Harry's right flew open. A Death Eater pried Luci away from him and he felt her fingers slip from his. They were led into the open room, which Harry recognized immediately. It was a dimly lit, rectangular space that looked almost like an amphitheatre. Stone benches descended many feet down into the middle of the room, where there stood a raised stone dais that held a stone archway, which held a veil – the veil through which Sirius had fallen!

They were marched around the top of this area and through a door to the left, which led into yet another room that was brightly lit and empty, except for one thing.

Malfoy sat in a chair towards the back of the room. His head was lolled onto his chest. Luci ripped herself away from the Death Eater that had been holding her captive and ran, splashing, to her brother.

Bellatrix drove Harry, Ron, and Hermione forward with her wand, in the direction of the other two.

"Sleeping charm," Harry heard Luci murmur to herself. Then, taking out her wand, she spoke, "_Evigilo_."

Malfoy's eyes fluttered open. He seemed disoriented. Finally focusing in on Luci's face, he breathed, "You came…"

"Of course, I came," she said affectionately. "You're my brother."

"It was a trap…" His eyes went to Harry. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"It's OK, Draco."

"You're wet."

Luci turned her wand on herself and finally dried her clothing.

"He's going to kill us all," choked Malfoy.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," promised Luci.

Then came a familiar laugh. "You won't need to protect the boy from his own father."

Slowly, all of them turned to see that Lucius Malfoy had removed his hood. Bellatrix was looking very satisfied with this entire situation.

Lucius and Luci stared silently at each other for what seemed like a very long time. They appeared to be assessing one another, and Harry wished that he knew what Luci was thinking.

Finally, Malfoy asked in a hoarse whisper, "Father?"

"You are safe, Draco," replied Lucius Malfoy, breaking eye contact with Luci and gazing at his son. "Come here and join us."

Malfoy didn't move, but instead looked utterly bewildered. "But… how…?"

Lucius smiled nastily. "The Dark Lord has welcomed us back."

"Why on _earth_ would Voldemort welcome you back?" Luci seemed to have found her voice.

Lucius responded, "Do not speak his name." Then, with a sneer, he continued, "In order to prove my loyalty, I offered him your life in return for Draco's and mine."

The expression on Luci's face very nearly broke Harry's heart into a million pieces. She remained brazen but he could see the tears in her eyes. She appeared to be at a loss for words once more.

"That doesn't prove any _loyalty_, you coward!" spat Hermione unpredictably. "It's not a sacrifice if you don't _care_ about the person!"

Lucius looked as if he might retaliate, but Malfoy exclaimed, "NO!" and leapt to his feet, tottering dangerously, as he was still groggy. He fell back into the chair and put a hand to his head.

Lucius frowned. "What do you mean – NO?"

Malfoy looked insolently up at his father. "She's my _sister_ and I won't let you."

"How _dare_ you speak to me that way, Draco?" snapped Lucius.

On his feet again, Malfoy began fuming, "You let the Dark Lord send me after Professor Dumbledore and you knew, you _knew_ that I wouldn't be able to do it, and I could have been _killed_, but all you cared about was getting back into his good graces!"

Harry was dumbfounded by this, and he saw that his friends shared his reaction.

Lucius cleared his throat and fumbled with his robes. "That's ridiculous, Draco. You're my son. I've done nothing but protect you."

"_Luci_ has protected me," Malfoy hurled back. "She came here to save me from _you_!"

"Rubbish. That Mudblood has done nothing but lie to you."

Lucius gave Luci a look of revulsion. She shook her head, almost as if she were trying to wake herself up from an awful nightmare.

Malfoy looked hesitant, and then glanced at Luci, who said, "It was to keep you safe. It was _all_ for you."

Lucius guffawed. "You can't possibly believe this nonsense, Draco. Now, join us. The Dark Lord will arrive shortly and he will take care of these worthless fools." He gestured towards Harry and his companions.

Malfoy glanced again from his father to his sister, seemingly unable to make up his mind. He took a step towards the hooded figures, obviously realizing that the Death Eaters had the clear advantage here, but he stopped at the sound of Luci's voice.

"Draco, you're _not_ a Death Eater. You're so much better than they are. You're so much… _more_."

Malfoy turned to her. She was gazing lovingly at him, and it made Harry feel slightly ill.

"You know I'm right. Remember what I told you. You have a chance to–"

"Shut up, you ridiculous girl," Bellatrix cut in.

But there was no longer a need for Malfoy to choose sides.

"What have we here?" an icy voice inquired.

The pit of Harry's stomach filled with hatred at the sight of Voldemort, who had made his way into the room, followed closely by his large snake, Nagini. The Death Eaters rallied reverently around him.

Harry released a loud moan as his scar began to throb. He closed his eyes on the pain and staggered backwards.

Hermione was immediately beside him. She put her hand gently upon Harry's forehead and he felt the throbbing subside instantly. He looked at her in wonder.

But before he could ask her what she'd done, Voldemort was speaking.

"This must be Lucius's _lovely_ daughter. Yes, it's the eyes."

He was moving slowly towards Luci, whose face bared obvious disgust.

"You're on the wrong side, you know," Voldemort continued. "Your father must be ashamed."

Lucius scoffed.

Luci was silent but bravely held Voldemort's stare, her face blanched, her nostrils flaring.

Voldemort ran a long, thin finger along her cheek. Harry saw her eyes slam closed and her jaw clench at his touch.

"Get away from her!" Harry warned, coming nearer.

Voldemort moved his snake-like eyes to Harry, smiling slowly, and stepped towards him.

"So it's true?" he oozed. "You're in love with a Death Eater's daughter?"

Harry was silent. He heard Luci suck in a breath of surprise. Malfoy looked horrorstruck.

"You didn't know?" Voldemort asked her in a sickeningly sweet tone.

She pursed her lips.

"Oh, yes, I'm afraid so."

Sounding shaken, Luci commanded, "Close your mind, Harry."

Harry looked at her, helplessly.

Voldemort's face contorted into a sardonic smile. "He was never a very good Occlumens, to my great delight. But no. I dare not venture into that territory. I have other ways of learning secrets."

Luci looked appalled. Either she couldn't believe that no one had thought to teach Occlumency to Harry or she had identified Voldemort's methods for obtaining information. Harry was very interested in the latter.

Unexpectedly, two more visitors strolled into the room – Wormtail and Snape. A jolt of abhorrence struck Harry in the chest. Snape sneered at him triumphantly and Harry tried very hard to empty his mind so that Snape, who had no fear of Harry retaliating, couldn't pry into it.

For some bizarre reason, Luci's expression had changed to relief.

"Severus," Voldemort said, calmly, "kill the boy and his… _sister_."

Harry felt fear grip him.

"My Lord," drawled Snape, "don't you think that we should let them go? Lucius is a most loyal servant and they _are_ his children."

Lucius was gaping stupidly, apparently shocked that Voldemort would betray him in this way.

Voldemort replied, "Lucius has failed me. The boy has failed me."

"M-my son…" mumbled Lucius.

Voldemort glanced at him and seemed to ponder his options.

"Spare the boy," he said, finally. "He could be of use. But we agreed upon the girl. And Potter seems quite fond of her, which certainly sweetens the pot."

"No!" Malfoy exclaimed again, stepping in front of Luci to shield her. Everyone in the room looked astounded, including Malfoy himself.

"You'll have to kill us both," he went on, erratically.

Voldemort surveyed Malfoy with amusement. "Very well," he concluded. He raised his wand at the pair of them.

At that moment, a series of loud cracking noises erupted in the next room. It sounded almost like fireworks. Harry and Luci exchanged bewildered glances.

Then, through the door, burst the entire Order of the Phoenix and nearly half of the remainder of Dumbledore's Army.


	24. Chapter Twenty4: The Prince's Redemption

**Chapter Twenty-Four – The Prince's Redemption**

Voldemort and his Death Eaters were so caught off guard by the arrivals that time seemed suspended for a few seconds. The Order and Harry's fellow D.A. members didn't hesitate; they were firing spells at the enemy before Harry had even caught his breath. Beside him, Luci had recovered quickly and was busy sending flashes of light into the huddle of hooded figures. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Malfoy inching backwards in an obvious attempt to keep out of harm's way.

_Coward_, he thought to himself, though the Slytherin boy _had_ put himself between Luci and Voldemort, and Harry found that he was grateful for it.

"Harry!" came a voice.

He turned to see Cho Chang, as striking as ever, standing to his left. He wondered what she was doing here. Did she still keep the Galleon at ready for such an occasion?

"You could participate, you know," she reprimanded him breathlessly as she waved her wand to block a spell.

"Right," he agreed, pulling himself from his own thoughts and moving towards the Death Eaters. One of them saw him coming and launched something at him. He dodged sideways and it barely missed him.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry threw, but the Death Eater shielded himself.

Harry attempted the spell again, but there was so much noise and chaos around him that he was having trouble concentrating, much less aiming.

Just as he was raising his wand to try again, something fell with a loud thud at Harry's feet. He looked down to see Colin Creevey, unconscious.

"_Expelliarmus_!" the hooded enemy shot at Harry, who was too distracted to endeavor a block. His wand flew from his hand and the Death Eater advanced on him, cackling in victory. Harry backed away, his eyes darting from the masked face to Colin's body and back again.

"Luci, get the children out of here!" Mrs. Weasley's shout came, from somewhere in the room, but Harry couldn't locate the source. Everything was happening so _fast_.

"Here!" someone said to him, tapping his shoulder and handing him his wand. It was Luna. He nodded his thanks, and before the Death Eater had noticed the return of the wand, Harry had managed, "_Levicorpus_," and the opponent was hanging upside down from his ankle.

"Cute," said Luci, who was passing by him, dragging Malfoy by the wrist. "Now gather your friends!"

"No way! I'm not leaving! This is _my_ fight!"

Luci contemplated him for a moment. Then, she replied, "You can come back with me if you want, but we have to get them out of here!"

"Ron and Hermione won't stay out of it either!"

"I don't have time to argue with y– watch out!" Luci shoved him aside and they both narrowly missed a collision with a yellow spark of light.

Unexpectedly, she was in his arms, though he wasn't sure how it had happened. She looked up at him, said, "Just help me get your friends to safety," and pulled away, back towards Malfoy, who she began to lead from the room.

"What about Colin?" he called after her.

She glanced sympathetically back at him but didn't answer. None of them were capable of carrying Colin, so Harry knew that they had to leave him. It suddenly hit him that it _was_ important to keep his friends safe.

Luci had reentered the room and was now pulling other D.A. members out of the door, as well. Harry made his way around the space, dodging spells at he went, and assembling his friends.

"Get _out_ of here!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked when she saw him.

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" he replied, ducking just in time and pulling Hermione down with him. The two of them were the last of the students to make it out the room.

"So _this_ is the 'D.A.' huh?" Luci threw at him when she saw them coming through the doorway.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" exclaimed Cho.

"Who are _you_?" Luci asked, more out of curiosity than anger.

Cho tilted her head superciliously. "Harry's ex-girlfriend. Who are _you_?"

Luci raised an eyebrow and then blinked. "Draco's sister…"

"Ron! Your face!" gasped Neville, impeding any further questioning, to Harry's relief.

"Yeah," sighed Ron, touching his scars. "Had a little accident."

"Never mind _that_," said Cho. "Look at Hermione's hair!"

"Yes, _that's_ what's important," grumbled Ernie.

"Everyone!" snapped Luci. "Listen! I need to get all of you to a safe location. You shouldn't even be here in the first place! What did half of you do – Apparate illegally?"

"So what?" said Ginny, her face flushed with zeal. "I didn't break the law for nothing; I want to fight!"

"Harry's trained all of us," Ernie cut in. "We know how to defend ourselves."

"My Patronus is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna agreed languorously.

Luci narrowed her eyes at Luna and then shook her head in bewilderment. "All I know is that the Order wants you out of that room, so I'm going to get you somewhere safe. I'm asking all of you not to fight me on this."

She looked to Harry for support, so he contributed, "She's right; let's go."

There were complaints, but everyone followed as Luci led the way through the room with the veil, and soon, they were in the circular space. Of course, once the door through which they had come had closed, their only option was to try the rotating doors one by one and see where it took them. They each began trying doorknobs.

After a few moments, Ron called, "Here!" as he barreled through one of the doors.

Hermione was right behind him, followed by Neville. Harry noticed that the room was entirely white from floor to ceiling, but when he stepped through the doorway, everything turned reddish and he succumbed to a dizzying warmth. He grinned lazily at Ron, who seemed to be emitting a relaxed buzzing sound.

Still dragging Malfoy by the wrist, Luci had followed Harry, but when she attempted to pull her brother in, it was as if an invisible barricade had appeared.

"Ow!" Malfoy whined.

Luci frowned and stepped back outside of the room, calling, "The rest of us can't get in! It's locked itself or something!"

Ginny, who stood behind Luci and Malfoy, sighed in frustration, huffed, "Let me try," and strolled easily past both of them.

Luci shook her head in confusion and tried again. Once more, her body got into the room, but when she tried to pull Malfoy in, it was as if the door had sealed itself, and she bounced backwards again.

Seeing this, Hermione suggested languidly, "Luci, try coming in by yourself."

"It's so cozy," coaxed Neville.

Luci turned and said something to Malfoy, and then she entered the room effortlessly. An expression of incomprehension shadowed her face.

"What _is_ this place?"

"You have to be in love!" Hermione squealed with pride, the drowsiness fading instantly. "That's how you get in! I knew it! This is the room that we couldn't open two years ago!"

Ernie hurried enthusiastically through the doorway, shrugging cheerfully when he received curious looks.

Harry caught Luci's eye for a brief moment, but she pulled her gaze away, stomping out of the room. She was in love… with _someone_. The notion that it might not be him made the inside of Harry's nose sting.

"We'll be safe from Death Eaters in here for sure!" said Ron, zealous considering his lethargy.

"Not all of us, and if we can't _all_ get in, none of us can stay here," Harry declared, though he felt as if he could remain in this room forever.

"He's right," Ginny replied.

Everyone began to file out again, though it was a slow process, and Ron made no motion towards the door.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione called, as he was now the only one lingering.

His eyes glazed with the effects of the room, he responded, "I'd rather not."

Hermione shook her head, marched back into the room, and tried to lead Ron out of the doorway.

"Oh, all right," he muttered, dragging his feet.

As they joined the others outside of the strange room, Harry overheard Malfoy asking Luci, "That bloke in the States?"

"Not now, Draco," she replied, and then continued, "OK, gang, we need to keep trying these ridiculous doors."

Malfoy grimaced and concluded, "Nauseating."

This brief exchange between the siblings settled into a tiny knot in the back of Harry's mind.

Everyone had gone back to tugging on doorknobs. Soon, Neville managed to pry open a door and called all of them in behind him. Harry recognized it as the room that led straight back to the Hall of Prophecies. The space was very narrow, with a long row of desks, and at the end, the crystal bell jar stood before a door, the door Harry knew would take them to the Hall if they went through it.

"Blimey," said Ernie.

"This place again," said Ron.

"You _know_ this place?" Luci asked him.

"'Course," replied Ron. "We were here two years back, right, Harry?"

Harry nodded and turned to Luci. "The room is safe."

She pressed her lips together. "OK, all of you stay put, and someone will be back for you. If no one comes… well… then do your best to get out of here. Apparate illegally again, I guess." She gazed at Malfoy for a long moment, but she didn't say anything else. Then she turned and started from the room, Harry following in her footsteps.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping in the doorway.

"I'm coming back with you."

"Then they'll _all_ want to come back with me," she said.

"So let them," replied Harry. "We're not _kids_, despite what you think. You have no idea what we've been through together. The whole lot of them, except your brother, know exactly what they're doing."

"Just because I wasn't in your ludicrous little club doesn't mean that I'm not prepared. I've had far better instruction than _you_ could have provided, Potter." Malfoy stood scowling, his arms crossed.

But all of the D.A. members were watching Harry and Luci, who both also ignored Malfoy, Luci instead glancing warily at the group and whispering, "I don't think you're a kid, Harry."

"So?" he wanted to know.

She sighed, and then said loudly to the room, "Harry needs to come with me. Hermione, you're in charge."

A cloud of protests rose into the air, but Luci tugged Harry from the room and closed the door, leaving Malfoy and the D.A. behind.

"So we need to find the right room again," she said, starting towards one of the doors.

"Don't change the subject," Harry snapped.

"There's a subject?" she asked, pulling open the door of the Love Room again, and then slamming it shut in aggravation.

"You don't think I can handle this fight," accused Harry. "You think I'm some stupid _kid_ who needs protecting!"

Luci's back was to him, but her shoulders sagged. Then she whirled around and countered, "No, Molly asked me to get all of you out of there and I did what she asked, and I wanted you to stay with them because I don't want anything to happen to you, but you insist on putting yourself in danger!" She hissed loudly. "So damn stubborn!"

Before Harry could respond, she said, "The room, please," just as Bellatrix had done, and the door revealed itself to her. She continued into the benched area, and Harry hurried in after her.

"I've _always_ been in danger and I've _always_ come out fine!" he countered.

"Whatever, Harry, it's your choice."

She was walking determinedly around the top of the benches and Harry could hear battle sounds coming from the room towards which they were headed. The door was open and there were flashes of light illuminating the ceilings and walls.

"Voldemort is _mine_ to kill!"

"You sound like you're going hunting," she threw over her shoulder.

"He murdered my parents! You know I have to do it!"

"I'd be the first person to seek revenge too, but–"

"This isn't just about revenge, Luci!" he interrupted. "This is about saving the entire Wizarding world, and the Muggle world too! And _I_ have to do it!"

"Nothing's written in stone."

She was striding quickly, and Harry had yet to make it to her side. If she'd been closer, she would have seen his hesitation, the desire in his eyes to give the responsibility to someone else. She didn't know about the end of the prophecy, the part that said that Harry was the only one who could kill the Dark Lord. If not for that bit, yes, Harry thought he might be able to walk away.

Finally, he replied, "Well, I'm _deciding_ to do it."

"So noble," she sighed quietly, after a moment.

"Don't patronize me!" fumed Harry.

"I wouldn't…" Luci began, and then stopped in her tracks. He caught up to her then and stopped too.

"I wouldn't patronize you," she continued. "I really _do_ think you're noble. And I know you're still mad at me over… everything. But I _do_ care about you. I just want you to make it out of this. I want all of us to get out of this, and then I can go home and you and Draco can write me uneventful letters abou–"

"You're going home?" Harry cut her off.

"About nothing," she finished. "And of course I'm going home. My whole life is there."

He gaped at her for a moment. He wasn't sure why he thought she'd stay, because it was true that her home was elsewhere. But the notion of her absence from his life filled him with a distinct heaviness.

"Who's the bloke in the States?" he asked, dreading the answer, realizing that there may be some_one_, not some_thing_, who had been causing her to keep her distance all this time.

Luci didn't respond at first, instead turning her gaze to the floor, but then she returned her eyes to his and said, "No one. Who's the ex-girlfriend?"

Harry stepped closer to her and echoed, "No one."

She inhaled sharply. "I need to get back in there. Can we do this later? Now is not the time for jealousy."

"Do I have a reason to be jealous?"

She released a breath. "Harry, you know I –" Then she shook her head and went on, "His name is Josh. He's a good friend and we've been writing and Draco… assumed, I guess. But it was never like that. He's my _Ron_." She grinned at this, and Harry reciprocated.

"You know," Luci continued softly, "I believe that you can handle _anything_. I just don't want you to _have_ to."

The energy was still crackling between them, even now, in the midst of a war going on merely yards away. Harry discovered that it was astonishingly difficult not to take hold of her and leave it all behind. He considered kissing her again, and just the thought sent electricity all through his body. Instead, he asked, "So this is because you're _worried_ about me?"

In response, she smiled in a sad sort of way.

"You're no safer than I am."

"Yes," she agreed, "but _I_ don't matter."

Harry frowned. "You _do_ matter; you matter to _me_."

"Stop that," she objected. "We have to go in there and fight and you nee–"

A familiar growl erupted from the room. Luci's eyes grew wide.

"What the hell was _that_?" she exclaimed, running to the doorway of the battle room and peeking in.

Harry came up behind her and his fears were realized.

"Greyback!" he gasped.

"A werewolf?" breathed Luci. "My _god_."

"He's the one who bit Lupin," Harry said into the top of her head.

Against his chest, he felt her suck in a deep breath. His stomach danced.

He took a quick review of the room. Was that Dean Thomas? He was putting up quite a fight! Maybe he'd been late in responding to the Galleon's summons… Two hooded figures were sprawled upon the floor, but Harry was looking to see if anyone had fallen on _his_ side. Colin remained where he'd landed, and not much farther away, Harry's eyes fell on another body – Mrs. Weasley! Though Luci was warm against him, he felt his flesh go cold.

"And I can't convince you to go back?" Luci pleaded, slicing through his thoughts.

"'Fraid not," was his reply, but he had barely been able to force the words from this throat.

"Then you should know…" she had started, but Harry wasn't listening. Greyback had been sparring with Tonks as they'd watched, and in an instant, had pounced upon her. Harry, instinctively and in a flash of temper, charged past Luci and into the room, though, behind him, he heard her shout, "HARRY, NO!"

"_Abeo Proditio_!" he commanded, and Greyback was immediately on his feet again, shaking his head and looking utterly befuddled. Then, the werewolf turned and attacked the nearest Death Eater - Lucius Malfoy. Harry made no attempt to stop the wolf, and neither did anyone else.

Lupin was tending after Tonks, who was out cold but seemed to have only sustained a minor injury. Harry continued past the pair of them towards Voldemort, who was standing in a corner of the room. He appeared relaxed and amused as he watched the goings-on. He didn't raise his wand to protect his own _or_ to assault his enemies. He just stood, leering and watching as Harry moved in his direction, as though he believed that this battle was beneath him.

The strain in Harry's gut was growing stronger. He felt as if his nerves were frayed, like every inch of his body was informing him that the moment was quickly approaching – he was going to have to attempt to kill Voldemort. The sinister figure rose before him, and Harry was stumbling over and around bodies to get nearer.

"Not so fast, Potter!" a hooded man snarled, stepping in front of Harry and shoving him backwards. As he regained his balance, Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Bill and Fleur were both attacking Greyback, and that Lucius Malfoy lay motionless at their feet, bleeding profusely all over the floor.

All of the sudden, Harry felt his feet leave the ground, and he was soaring backwards. Something warm gurgled up his throat as his back slammed into the wall. He slid to the floor, spluttering, and then he coughed, spitting the blood onto the marble. Before he could get to his feet again, the same Death Eater was coming towards him. Harry held up his wand, but couldn't find words before his foe had shouted, "_Crucio_!"

Devastating agony engulfed Harry. He knew that he was screaming, but the pain was so intense that he couldn't hear a thing. Then, it stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

Harry sat up to find that Luci was holding her wand over the Death Eater, who was now writhing in pain, just as Harry had been a moment before.

He dizzily got to his feet and yelled at Luci, "What are you doing?"

She wasn't listening.

"Luci, stop!"

She glanced up at him, and all of the green had vanished from her eyes. They were a cold, stone gray. Harry felt his breath cease.

Then he shouted over the noise, "That's an _Unforgivable_ Curse!"

Luci turned her gaze away from him and didn't respond.

"You're an _Auror_!" he pleaded.

At that, she flicked her wand, muttering, "_Stupefy_," just as another Death Eater was coming towards them.

"Relentless bastards!" she roared, throwing what looked like a particularly vicious spell at the newly arriving Death Eater, who plummeted to the floor.

"Luci!" Harry screamed again.

He seized her by the shoulders and shook her firmly.

"You're scaring me!"

She looked up into his eyes, and the fog seemed to clear from her vision, the glints of green slowly returning. Her expression softened. "Sorry, I don't know wh–"

But suddenly, someone's stray spell hit her square in the chest and she was launched away from Harry, landing on her back on the cold marble. He ran after her.

"Come back and fight, Potter!" he heard someone growl. Multi-colored blazes of light jetted past him. Perhaps it hadn't been a _stray_ spell after all.

Harry was reassured to find Luci unharmed. He offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. She was gasping for breath.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

She didn't answer this question. Instead, she said, "I lied."

He looked at her inquisitively.

"I love you, Harry."

He felt the words more than heard them, and Harry's heart leapt. His eyes widened in astonishment.

She nodded resignedly. Then, without another word, she swiftly went back to firing curses at the Death Eaters that had advanced upon the two of them while they had been sidetracked.

Smiling wider than he really should have been, under the circumstances, Harry began throwing spells around the room. His heart aglow, he could barely concentrate. She felt the same way after all!

Then a flash of long black hair met his eyes. Cho! In fact, the entire D.A. had returned to the room and rejoined the fight. Harry tried to clear his head. Voldemort was still surveying the room from his protected corner, and most of the Death Eaters were still standing, enough of them to give the Hogwarts students more than they could handle. Malfoy was crouching over his father, an expression of dismay upon his face. Luci was…

Harry's mouth fell open at what he saw. An older man, who was adorned in a Death Eaters robe but who wore no mask, was handing a large, sturdy sword over to Snape. Luci said something to the senior of the men and then began to duel with him. In the meanwhile, Snape was moving purposefully towards Nagini, Voldemort's huge snake. The serpent was coiled near the middle of the room, far from her master's side. Was Snape intending to protect the Horcrux?

Then, much to Harry's shock, as Snape advanced on Nagini, he heard the Professor yell, "_Sepelio_!"

The snake made a spitting noise as Snape sliced her in two with the sword. A wisp of black cloud, accompanied by ample blood, erupted from the serpent and burst into a million tiny particles in front of Harry's eyes.

"NOOO!" Voldemort bellowed, as he turned his eyes to these events, realizing what had happened. He moved quickly, almost as though he had Apparated, to where Nagini's remains were smoldering peculiarly.

"NOW, POTTER!" commanded Snape. But Voldemort was too fast.

Snape went flying, and he hit the wall with a loud thud. Voldemort summoned the sword and sent it plunging into Snape's abdomen. He hollered in pain and slid into a crumpled mound upon the floor.

Harry seized his chance. Pointing his wand directly at Voldemort's chest, he began to shout the spell.

But once again, the Dark Lord had been too swift. He had grabbed Luci, who had been standing a few feet from Snape, dueling with the old man. Voldemort held her in front of him, smiling menacingly.

"NO!" cried Harry, feeling as if his insides had just turned to ice.

Luci struggled in Voldemort's grasp, but he only cackled at her futile attempt to escape. Her wand was still clutched tightly in her right hand, but her captor had pinned both of her arms to her sides. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide with… surprise?… fear? Harry couldn't tell.

Voldemort was looking victorious. "I think I will quite enjoy watching _you_ watch her die."

Harry was so terrified and infuriated that he couldn't think straight. He closed his eyes, shutting in the blinding rage. How was he going to get out of this? It seemed that his luck had finally run out. More apoplectic than he could ever remember being, he tightened his fists and dug his fingernails into his palms.

When he glanced up again, Luci caught his gaze. "Just kill him."

Harry thought his legs might give way. He shook his head at her.

"Please, Harry. You might not have another chance. This is about saving the _world_, remember?"

Voldemort grinned wickedly. "Yes, Harry, take your only precious chance."

"No," Harry said firmly.

He was going to have to stall, so he looked straight into Voldemort's cold eyes.

"You know, that was the last one."

Voldemort blinked, briefly shadowing the red pupils. This refuted Harry's belief that the Dark Lord had been peeking into his mind. He didn't know about the Horcruxes. So how did he know about Harry's feelings for Luci?

"Yep," said Harry, as casually as he could manage, "all of the Horcruxes are destroyed. That was my last one, but thanks to Snape, who didn't seem to be on _your_ side, that one's taken care of too. So I guess that makes you… _mortal_… doesn't it?"

Voldemort was silent for a long time, while Harry stared fixedly, trying to appear confident and very satisfied with himself, when he was feeling utter defenselessness. His scar was throbbing relentlessly again. Luci was no longer struggling, and she didn't look scared. Harry couldn't understand how, because he was petrified. Instead, she looked almost resolved.

Then there was blinding pain, and he felt Voldemort sifting through his thoughts. Harry tried to push him out, to resist, but it was over before he'd had much of an opportunity. This was followed by their eyes meeting, but neither of them spoke.

Finally, the Dark Lord began, "When I choose, I can still see into your mind, Potter. It seems that you _have_ defeated my Horcruxes, but you have not defeated _me_, and I find myself in the position of power. You were always weak. There are far too many people about whom you care deeply, and that puts you at a great disadvantage. This particular occasion, for instance…"

Voldemort began to slide his wand along Luci's pale throat, carving it open slowly, the blood gurgling down onto her shirt. She howled, an unbearable sound licking at Harry's ears.

Then an idea struck him like a glorious bolt of lightning.

"Love is my _power_, not my weakness," he snarled.

Then, pointing his wand at the pair of them, he screamed, "_Sectumsempra_!"

Luci's skin was sliced open before Harry's eyes, her crimson blood spilling everywhere. She was so small that she hadn't provided much of a shield for Voldemort. She had received the brunt of the spell, but Voldemort's skin was also hacked to pieces, though he shed no blood. Harry thought it was much like the time he'd used the spell against the Inferi.

Voldemort, writhing in misery, released Luci, who fell to the floor in a pitiful heap.

Harry held his wand steady, preparing himself to commit murder.

The Dark Lord straightened and laughed heartlessly. "Too weak to do what needs to be done, Potter? You should know that _I_ am _not_."

Then, Voldemort disappeared from the spot.

Harry lowered his wand in defeat, forgetting that the battle was still raging on all around him. An enemy must have taken advantage of his lack of defenses, because he felt a searing heat strike him in the back, and then he blacked out.


	25. Chapter TwentyFive: Black Is the Colour

**Chapter Twenty-Five – Black Is the Colour**

Someone was tugging on him. Harry slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself onto his knees. The remaining members of his valiant army surrounded him. Lupin's hands were on his shoulders.

"Luci," he muttered groggily.

"You killed her, Harry," said Ron gently, miserably, as he handed Harry his glasses.

"No, I didn't."

Looking up blearily, he saw Snape's lifeless frame pinned against the wall by the sword. Then Harry's gaze fell upon Luci's body, drenched in blood. Malfoy was on his knees beside her, and he was _crying_, literally quaking with sobs.

Harry was heaving for breath as he crawled over to the pair of them. He rolled Luci onto her back. She moaned softly and her eyes fluttered open. He brushed the matted hair from her face.

"That hurt," she groaned feebly.

Harry heard Malfoy gasp and his weeping cease.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, "I had to."

Luci gave him a faint smile. "I know."

Harry put a hand to her stomach. Her clothes had been torn, and her skin was coated with blood, but there were no wounds. It had worked.

"How do you do that?" asked Harry, examining her shredded clothing.

She started to sit up, but fell dizzily back to the floor.

Harry shoved his arms underneath her body and lifted her. To his surprise, she was almost weightless.

"Draco," she murmured.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who had gotten to his feet, wiping hastily at his eyes.

"He's OK," Harry said to Luci.

"It's over?" she asked, breathlessly.

"For now," he nodded.

She smiled dimly, and then went limp in his arms.

Harry felt like a huge iron fist had closed around his middle.

"Luci, wake up!" He shook her lightly.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Mr. Weasley said to him. "We need to get her to St. Mungo's. And the others too."

Harry turned around, and a horrible scene met his eyes. He saw that Hermione, Luna, and Charlie were lying on the floor, joining Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Colin. Almost everyone was covered in blood, bruises, and various injuries. A few Death Eaters also lay upon the floor, including Bellatrix Lestrange, though she was alive, twitching oddly upon her back. Harry assumed that the few who had survived had Apparated along with Voldemort.

Luci had shed so much blood that Harry felt as if he'd just crawled out of a lake. His clothes were soaked through and his skin felt sticky and cold.

"Let me take her," said Mr. Weasley.

"No."

"I'll take good care of her, Harry," he coaxed.

Harry looked at him uncertainly.

"I promise."

Harry nodded.

Mr. Weasley waved his wand over Luci, chanted, "_Morbilicorpus_," and her body lifted smoothly from Harry's arms.

The same spell was repeated over the others and Harry watched everyone file from the room.

"Take your time," Ginny said as she was on her way out. He nodded gratefully to her.

When he was alone, there came a stifled voice.

"Potter…"

Harry turned to see Snape, attempting to pull the sword from his torso.

"Don't," warned Harry, hurrying to his old Professor's side, feeling a pang of regret. "I'll get you to St. Mungo's, but you have to be still. Let me think…"

"There's a small house on Spinner's End," Snape began, though his voice was fading.

"Spinner's End?"

"It's a road, Potter. A small house, at the end, number eight, a few doors down from mine. There's a cellar beneath the house. That's where you'll find him."

"Voldemort?"

Snape hissed.

"I don't understand," said Harry.

"You _must_ kill him, Potter," Snape growled. "For Lily's sake."

Harry flinched at his mother's name on Snape's lips, but then he felt an odd sense of compulsion.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said. "I… I was wrong."

Snape shook his head. "It was mutual enmity."

"She loved you. My mother, I mean."

The dark eyes looked up at Harry in incredulity, searching his face for the truth. Finally, Snape smiled, truly smiled, and closed his lids.

"Professor?" asked Harry, but Snape was gone.

Appraising the room, Harry saw that Greyback had been slaughtered in a fashion that would make anyone sick to their stomach. His shaggy corpse lay surrounded by three other evidently deceased Death Eaters. Harry wondered who else had lost their life this day. He wouldn't have any idea until he joined the others at St. Mungo's. If Luci didn't make it, he didn't know what he would do. A violent sob shook him at this thought. He slumped despairingly against the wall next to the Half-Blood Prince, who had helped Harry more than perhaps anyone else in his life, and his own acknowledgment of this surprised him.

He sat there for a long while, milling over the events, feeling regret and anger and frustration. Finally, he got to his feet and slowly left the room, entering into another place full of horrific memories.

"'Bout time," a voice said.

Harry turned to see Ron sitting on the top bench, near the door. His best friend got to his feet and approached him.

"All right?" he asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"You said you wanted to figure out this veil; I thought I'd offer to help."

Harry wanted to hug Ron, but he resisted this urge.

"Don't you want to make sure that Hermione is OK?"

Tears formed in Ron's eyes. Harry averted his gaze and pretended he hadn't noticed this.

Finally, Ron said, "There's nothing either of us can do for any of them right now."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, mate."

Ron made an awkward motion in response.

Harry took the pair of dirty, square mirrors from his pocket.

"I had an idea," he said to Ron, who looked up curiously.

"I'm going to throw this mirror through the veil and maybe Sirius will catch it on the other side."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "You really think so?"

"It's worth a try."

The two boys approached the veil. It fluttered in the non-existent wind. The voices were tumbling over one another, so that Harry couldn't make out anything clearly.

He tossed Sirius's mirror through the archway. The veil immediately spat it back out at him, and it landed at his feet. It hadn't shattered, however. Harry looked down into it and saw his own luminous green eyes staring back at him.

He threw the mirror into the veil again. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the mirror flew past Ron's head and Harry leapt for it, barely catching it before it would have hit the marble floor.

"I don't think that's going to work, mate," Ron said.

Harry frowned in aggravation. "Then what _will_? We can't very well go through it ourselves, can we?"

Ron looked tentatively at Harry. "I don't really want to, no, but I will, if you ask me to."

Harry gaped. "Are you mental? I wouldn't ask you to do that!"

"You need to stay alive, to kill V-Voldemort," his best friend replied.

"Shut up, Ron. Neither of us is going through it."

They both stood there silently for a long while, Harry trying to figure out how to get this mirror back to Sirius. Finally, he decided that he would throw both mirrors in and hope for the best.

He tossed them simultaneously through the veil. Then, he and Ron watched patiently, expecting to see both mirrors come flying back out at them.

To their surprise, however, the archway ejected Harry's mirror gently onto the floor before them.

Harry stepped forward, picked up the small square, and stared into the still-cracked glass.

"Sirius," he said eagerly.

A myriad of voices greeted him in return, some desperate, some bothered, some curious. Finally, he heard, "Give me that!" and he gasped.

"Hello, Harry," came his godfather's familiar tone a second time.

Harry was so stunned that he stumbled backwards and fell into Ron, who caught him and set him upright again.

He composed himself and looked down into the mirror, where he expected to see Sirius's face, but it was just the shattered glass, reflecting his own features.

"Sirius?" he said again. "Is it really you?"

"Took you long enough," came Sirius's reply.

Harry, his heart skittering, his voice wavering, asked, "Are you… dead?"

Sirius chuckled, and Harry felt as if someone had poured something hot down his throat. He was suddenly warm all over and he realized that he was grinning ear to ear.

"_Trapped_ is more like it," answered Sirius.

"I don't understand."

"There are a lot of spirits in here, but I'm not one of them. Some of us are just caught between worlds."

"But… all of your possessions transferred to me!"

"Did they?" asked his godfather. "Curious."

Harry frowned. "Well, how do I get you out?"

Sirius laughed again. "It's the Department of _Mysteries_ for a reason, Harry."

"But I _have_ to get you out!" Harry exclaimed.

"I'm not arguing with that," agreed Sirius. "I'm just telling you that I don't know how you could do it."

Harry sighed. He glanced at Ron, who looked dumbfounded and held up his hands to signal that he had no idea.

"Hermione," Sirius said then.

"What?"

"She'll know exactly where to look. Tell her to research the Veil of Voices."

Harry hesitated. "We… we don't know if she's OK…"

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius, his voice eclipsed with concern.

Harry realized that Sirius had no idea what had just occurred.

"I… we… She got hurt in the battle, and we don't know how badly."

Sirius took a sharp breath. "What battle?"

"It's a long story," responded Harry.

"Is everyone all right?"

"We don't know. It's just Ron and me here. Everyone else is at St. Mungo's."

"Go check on your friends," Sirius said at last. "Then you can come back and get me the hell out of here."

Harry nodded, but then realized that Sirius couldn't see him. "We'll be back," he said. "Just hang on, and we'll get you out."

His godfather said, "I know you will."

* * *

Harry had been on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's, sitting beside Luci's bed, for two days now. Sometimes, Malfoy would come in and sit next to him. They never said anything to one another, but there was an unspoken ceasefire between them.

Luci's mother had been contacted immediately and she had traveled with amazing speed to the hospital. She was a small woman, no bigger than Luci herself, with auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She checked in on Luci often but spent most of her time talking to the Healers, who she always referred to as "doctors," much to their annoyance. She and Harry had become briefly acquainted, due to the fact that he rarely left Luci's bedside, and Melissa Keegan had insisted that he call her by her first name.

The staff had been giving Luci the same blood-replenishing potion that they'd given to Mr. Weasley when Nagini had attacked him. They had told Luci's mum that she must still be out due to shock. The infirmary had many patients just from the one night alone, but Melissa had managed to snag her daughter a room all to herself. Harry had a feeling that Malfoy had also had something to do with it, using his name for leverage.

Harry now sat, watching Luci sleep and ruminating over the consequences of their quest to rescue Malfoy.

Mrs. Weasley was still unconscious, and the Healers were unsure about her stability at this point. Charlie, however, had died instantly in the battle, plunging a vast sorrow upon all of the Weasleys. It was fortunate that Mrs. Weasley was asleep, because this information would surely send her into hysterics. Harry had been so shaken and guilt-ridden by the news that he had been unable to eat ever since.

Mr. Weasley had greeted Harry and Ron with patient updates on the night that they had returned from the Ministry of Magic. Luna had apparently lost her memory, but she had come to no real harm and had been sent home, along with the rest of the members of Dumbledore's Army. Except for Colin, who had never woken up again and died shortly after being brought into the hospital. Tonks, however, was going to be fine, but they were keeping her until the full moon to analyze the extent of her condition, as the one bite she had sustained was relatively deep.

To Ron and Harry's relief, but especially Ron's, Hermione had only been hit by a stunning spell and a freezing charm at the same time and she'd been released almost immediately. She hadn't left the hospital, though. Now and then, she would try to coax Harry into taking some food, but he would always refuse. How could he eat when he'd almost killed the girl that he loved? And maybe he _had_ killed her. Maybe she wouldn't wake up. This fear plagued Harry relentlessly.

Neville had given an in-depth interview of the events and he was being hailed as a hero for defeating Bellatrix Lestrange. The evil woman was still alive, but after she had made the mistake of throwing a curse at Ginny, Neville had apparently tortured her into lunacy, just as she had done to his parents. There would be a hearing due to his use of illegal magic, but no one believed that he would actually be punished, considering the circumstances.

Lucius Malfoy had barely made it out alive. The werewolf had torn his skin to shreds, simultaneously contaminating his pure blood. The Healers had no doubt that he would transform during the next full moon and were keeping him in a caged room.

Malfoy spent his time going back and forth between visiting his father and his sister. Currently, he was in with Lucius, and Harry was grateful. And since he had the assurance that no one was listening, he said it again to her, as he had many times now.

"Please wake up, Luci."

* * *

It had been four days since Luci had been admitted to St. Mungo's when she finally awoke. It was a cold January day, but the sunlight was pouring in through the window across from her bed. Harry was alone in the room with her, and he had dozed off.

"Harry?" came Luci's frail voice.

Harry's eyes flew open. He blinked, thinking he'd imagined it. It wouldn't have been the first time. Perhaps it was the lack of food…

"Hi." She sounded hoarse, her eyes at half-mast.

Harry's face exploded in a smile. He felt a tremendous weight lift from his body. "Hi! How are you? How do you feel?"

With a dim smile, she mumbled, "Drained."

Harry laughed before he could stop himself. The sound of her voice was enrapturing. He took her hand. It was warmer than it had been in days.

She yawned, and then asked, "What'd you do to me?"

He turned his eyes down. "It was… one of Snape's spells; I'm _so_ sorry, Luci."

"Don't be." She clenched his hand imperceptibly. "You did the only thing that you could, and it was the _right_ thing. And isn't it my fault that we were there in the first place?"

"You aren't the first one to fall for one of Voldemort's tricks," Harry replied.

Luci shook her head upon her pillow. "I should have known."

"You couldn't have," said Harry, who continued thoughtfully running his fingers over hers.

"I'm just glad you'd been paying attention. It was the day that I cut my hand, wasn't it?"

He glanced up at her and nodded. "What heals the wounds?"

Luci pursed her lips contemplatively. "I don't know."

"So… _can_ you die?"

"I can bleed to death, which was news to me, actually. But, yeah, lots of things can do me in, the worst of them being lack of oxygen."

"The Chipretta," he said in sudden understanding.

She nodded and studied his face for a moment. "You look older."

Then she frowned and lifted her head. "Wait. How long have I been out?"

Harry smiled. "Only a few days. I'm not older. Just… tired."

"Are you OK?" Luci sat up quickly, snatching her hand from his, concern shadowing her face. Then she gave a weak, "Oh," and laid back against the headboard, her palms to her temples.

Harry gave her a scolding look. "Relax; I'm fine."

"How is everyone else?" Luci asked, propping herself up with her pillow. She coughed and rubbed her throat, looking very weary herself.

He glanced at her, and he didn't even have to answer. She could see it in his face. She hung her head sadly.

He sighed. "And it's my fault."

"Stop it!" exclaimed Luci, snapping her head back up to look at him. "It's not your fault, dammit! Why won't you see that? The entire world isn't on your shoulders, Harry!"

Instead of acknowledging her comments, Harry continued, "You saw what happened to Snape. And they don't think that Mrs. Weasley will make it."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

They sat in a poignant silence for almost a minute before she questioned, "And my father?"

He swallowed. "I hear he's pretty mangled, but he'll live… as a werewolf."

Luci shut her eyes for a moment, and then said bitterly, "Serves him right. Did everyone make it out alive then?"

Harry shook his head. "Colin died. And–"

He stopped. He didn't know how she'd react.

"Who?"

He took a deep breath. "Charlie."

Luci's eyes welled with tears and she put a hand over her mouth, choking, "Oh, god… oh, god, not my Charlie…"

"Did you… were you two…?"

She was shaking her head. "No… he… oh god… JoAnn! Someone has to tell her that he's…" She made a strangled sound.

"JoAnn?"

"His girlfriend."

Harry gawked. "But I thought…"

"We were _friends_," she cut him off. "He was the only person I could talk to about you."

Relief flooded him, and he knew that he had to ask her.

"Did you mean it then?"

Luci raised an eyebrow in confusion, still looking distraught.

"What you said in the Department of Mysteries," Harry explained hesitantly.

He didn't think he'd ever seen her turn so red.

She put her hands over her face and then fisted them under her chin, nodding slowly.

His heart fluttered.

For a moment, she was too flustered to speak, but then she replied, "But I said it because I thought that one or both of us might not survive. We still… can't."

Harry, to his own surprise, became instantly angry.

"Why not?" he demanded, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

Luci hugged herself protectively and looked away from him.

Harry sighed. "I don't understand why you're doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away."

She met his gaze and he felt the anger melt into oblivion.

"Don't you…" she began. Then she inhaled deeply. "Don't you want… something… _better_?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't deserve you, Harry," she replied softly.

He emitted a low, harsh sound. "You're the most insecure person I know and with the least reason to be."

"Probably," she agreed, "but this isn't about me being insecure."

"What's it about then?"

"I need to be honest with you from now on, so the truth is - and I really _don't_ know what heals the wounds – um…" She jammed her thumbnail between her teeth. "When I was thirteen, I slit my wrists."

Harry gasped.

"Instead of bleeding to death, like I intended to, I watched as the gashes just closed right up. I've been able to heal ever since. It's like some higher power doesn't trust me. So, you see, I don't deserve life and I don't deserve happiness and I certainly don't deserve you."

His heart was so heavy that he could barely speak. "I… I don't know what to say…"

"I get it," she went on, in arrant self-reproach. "You've seen so much life lost that you can't be around someone who didn't value it at one point. I understand."

"No, you don't. I know what it's like not to want to live."

Luci frowned. "You do?"

"Of course! My whole life, I've had nothing but burdens and pressures and obligations and… loss and pain and…" He took a deep breath. "I may never have thought of killing myself, but that's probably because there were always plenty of people willing to do it for me. But I've wished that I hadn't been born loads of times. Life isn't easy for me either."

"Yes, but Harry, I didn't try to kill myself because my _life_ wasn't easy! My life was fine! It was because my _head_ isn't easy!"

"Whose _is_?" he asked, still rocked by this revelation.

"I don't know. Other people's."

"Luci, if you think you're the only person who's ever hurt more than you can bear, you're very, very wrong."

She smiled, a sad smile. "I know. But either way, I'm a mess."

"Do you still…?" He halted, trying to find the right words, but there was no need, because she knew the question.

"No," she answered. "And I don't think that I ever really did. I just wanted the pain to go away. But I know now that pain doesn't ever go away entirely. You just have to surround yourself with people who make it better."

"But you _don't_ – you push away the people who make it better."

The corners of Luci's mouth turned up just slightly. "Well, yes, because _I_ make it _worse_. So it's for your–"

"Don't you _dare_ say it's for my own good!" he fumed suddenly. "_I_ decide what's good for me and what isn't! OK, so you're… _frustrating_ sometimes, but you make me feel… _alive_." He stopped, sighing fervently and running a hand through his hair.

Luci released a sharp breath. "You're making this so _hard_."

"Then stop fighting it!" he growled back.

She shook her head, but before she could protest again, he had leaned over the bed and kissed her fiercely. She didn't resist this time, and instead, reached up and cupped his face in her hands. Harry thought he might lose consciousness as the myriad of sensations bombarded him from every conceivable direction. It was somewhat like falling through the Pensieve, but warmer and brighter and…

A bellow pulled him from his state of daze.

"Get your hands off my sister, Potter!"


	26. Chapter Twenty6: A Little Back and Forth

**Chapter Twenty-Six – A Little Back and Forth**

Harry straightened up in time to see Malfoy coming towards him, his wand raised. But when he noticed that Luci had come to, he dropped his hand and hurried to the other side of the bed.

"You're awake!" he said happily.

Harry was trying to shake the cobwebs from his head.

"Hello little brother," Luci said warmly, her smile bright and welcoming, though Harry wished that the Slytherin boy would just go away.

Malfoy gave her a brief sickened look, but then grinned again.

"You saved my life," he said to her, with more fondness than Harry had ever heard out of him.

Luci was beaming. Harry knew that Malfoy's acceptance meant the world to her.

"You were pretty brave yourself," she replied. "Have you forgotten that you saved mine too?"

Was Malfoy _blushing_? Gross.

He seemed to suddenly realize that Harry was still in the room.

He whirled around. "You almost _killed_ her! What were you _thinking_?"

This was an entirely different kind of wrath than Harry was accustomed to seeing from Malfoy.

Harry took a step back. "I… She…" He threw his hands into the air, as if in surrender.

"Draco."

Malfoy turned to his sister.

"He knew it wouldn't kill me," she stated delicately.

"That's impossible!" scoffed Malfoy. "He used that same spell on _me_! I was lucky Professor Snape was there or I might've been killed myself!"

"Harry would never hurt me." Luci gave Harry an intensely affectionate glance, and Malfoy picked up on it.

He looked horrified. "When I walked in…" A revolted pause. "_What's going on_?"

Luci opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the arrival of her mother.

"Luci! Oh, thank god!"

The small brunette woman rushed to her daughter's side.

"Mama!" Luci cooed, reaching her arms, beckoning.

"Why didn't you come and get me, boy?" Melissa Keegan said to Malfoy, who was obviously at a loss for an answer and just shook his head.

Luci and her mother lovingly embraced one another.

Since Malfoy seemed to still be frozen in shock, Harry seized his arm and led him from the room.

Once they were in the corridor, Malfoy found his awareness. Harry tried to escape before he had to explain that kiss, but the other boy grabbed his shirt to hold him back.

"You were snogging my sister," spat Malfoy in accusation.

"Yeah," Harry replied blithely.

"Why would you do that, Potter?"

"Look, Malfoy, you can take this up with Luci."

"I'm taking it up with _you_," Malfoy growled.

He snatched the collar of Harry's shirt. He was still much taller. Harry could actually _hear_ Malfoy boiling with fury.

"Explain yourself," he hissed.

Harry swatted at his hand. "Get off me!"

Malfoy's face contorted into a particularly ferocious glare. "Stay away from her!" he snarled.

Harry was finally fuming too. "I love her, all right!"

Malfoy looked as if he'd been hit by a stunning spell. He released Harry and took a step back.

"W-what?" he croaked.

"You heard me."

"It's… true?" choked Malfoy.

"Yep."

He stared blankly at Harry for a few moments, and then spat, "You have to have everything, don't you?"

Harry frowned. "What are you going on about?"

Malfoy took a deep breath. "I have a _sister_. Do you know what that means to me?"

Harry was taken aback by the note of emotion in Malfoy's voice. They had both been only children. Yes, if Harry found that he had a sibling, it would mean a lot to him, too.

He had yet to say anything, so Malfoy went on, "I won't let you take my sister from me, like you take everything else."

Floored by this allegation, Harry could only shake his head in response.

They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, Harry said, "Look, I couldn't take her from you if I wanted to. Do you not see that? I tried to set her straight about you, but she wouldn't have it. She came here for _you_, and it's been about _you_ the whole time."

Malfoy gave him a scrutinizing glare.

Harry went on, "We have feelings for each other, but it doesn't change how important _you_ are to her."

For the first time, truly realizing this himself, Harry felt a pang of dread. He was in for a lot of Malfoy if he intended to pursue a relationship with Luci. Of course, she was making it so difficult that it seemed nearly impossible to get through to her at this point anyway.

Malfoy seemed to be comforted by Harry's words, but he still looked angry.

"_She_ couldn't have fallen for _you_," he began uncertainly.

Harry shrugged. "Ask her yourself, then." In actuality, he, too, was still unsure of Luci's true feelings for him.

After a moment, Malfoy huffed in aggravation and barked, "Hurt her and I'll kill you, Potter." Then he stomped away defeatedly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Luci had changed both of the boys in a way that neither of them had probably ever realized was possible.

Deciding that he would let her spend some time with her mother, Harry went to pay a visit to the Weasleys. He'd only seen them once, excepting Ron, due to the disgrace of being the cause of Charlie's death.

When he entered Mrs. Weasley's room, Ron stood to greet him.

"Your girl's awake?" Fred asked him.

Harry nodded hesitantly. He didn't want to throw his good news in the face of their tragedy.

Ron patted him on the back as he approached. "Glad to hear it," he said.

But Harry knew that his best friend wasn't really _glad_ about anything right now. Ever since they'd heard about Charlie, there had been a distance in Ron's eyes that Harry had never seen before, and it was killing him, because Harry blamed himself.

"How's she doing?" questioned Ginny. Harry was surprised by Neville's presence, but he was pleased to see that Ginny was holding his hand.

"She'll make it."

Ginny smiled in relief, though it looked somewhat forced.

"How's your mum?" asked Harry.

George took a deep breath. "Oughtta come out of it any minute." He poked his mother in the ribs.

"Stop that," Mr. Weasley upbraided him.

"Maybe it'll help," George shrugged.

"All right, Luci's fine," came Hermione's voice, as she'd just entered the room. "_Now_ will you eat something?" she pestered Harry.

"Yes, Hermione," he answered with a grin.

"I'll join you," Ron chimed in.

The hospital food in the tea shop was really quite horrendous, but considering that Harry hadn't eaten in so long, he didn't much care. He was diving heartily into a bowl of soup.

Hermione was observing him closely.

He looked up at her. "_What_?"

"How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged. He was feeling so many things that there was no possible way that he could articulate them all.

"It's pretty mind-boggling. What happened, I mean," Hermione went on.

Harry gave her an exasperated nod.

She continued gently, "Ron and I could listen…"

"What do you want me to say, Hermione? I'm alive, you lot are all alive, but Dumbledore and Hagrid and my parents are all still dead, and Colin and my best friend's brother… I don't really know how I feel, so will you stop pushing me?"

Hermione looked crushed. "I'm sorry… I just…"

"Never mind," grumbled Harry.

Ron consolingly took Hermione's hand.

Harry dropped his spoon into his empty bowl with a loud pang.

"Look, _I'm_ sorry," he sighed, and he really was. "It's just that people keep dying, and it's–"

"Why didn't _she_ die, Harry?"

He glanced up at Hermione. Harry had refused to talk about Luci until she woke up. He wasn't sure why, but something in him _had_ to know that he hadn't taken her life.

"There was so much blood. It would have killed anyone."

Ron nodded in agreement.

Harry picked up a piece of toast and looked at the two of them.

"Malfoys are impossible to kill?" Ron suggested.

After a pause, Harry answered, "She can heal herself."

Hermione gasped. "No! You're joking!"

Harry shook his head.

"Wow. Regeneration. That's really rare."

Harry returned to his food without going into any further detail.

Ron and Hermione were quiet for a few moments.

"How's the outlook for your mum?" asked Harry finally. "Any improvement?"

Ron looked glum. "Still don't know. Doesn't look good."

"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said. He dropped his toast. "Ever since we became friends, I've been nothing but trouble to you. Everyone in my life gets hurt. I should… become a recluse or something!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry!" reprimanded Hermione.

"It's true; if neither of you had ever met me, you'd both be happy and safe and… your lives would be intact."

"We all showed up, of our own free will, to help you," Ron pointed out. "And you're the best friend I've ever had, Harry." Then, as if to change the subject, he asked, "So have you told Luci how you feel yet?"

Harry had been trying to avoid this topic, thinking that Ron was probably still mad at him for hurting Ginny, despite her having obviously moved on.

"Yeah," replied Harry, hoping he could leave it at that.

"And?"

"And… Well, I'm not really sure _what's_ going on, actually."

He told Ron and Hermione about the last night at Grimmauld Place and about Luci's confession during the battle, then about her recent refusal to give him any chance whatsoever.

"But I'm not giving up on her," he concluded.

"You shouldn't, Harry. She's been crazy about you for ages," encouraged Hermione. "She's just scared, for some reason; she'll come around."

Harry frowned. "I thought you two hated me because I wasn't getting back together with Ginny."

Ron shrugged. "She seems to be fine. Fancies Neville now. Odd pairing, but he's a good guy. And we could never hate you, you dolt."

"After awhile, we liked Luci, Harry. We just wanted Ginny to be happy and we didn't want you to get hurt. And we thought Luci was too old for you." Hermione smiled apologetically.

"Krum," Harry said simply.

"Yes, all right," snapped Hermione.

"Krum who?" said Ron. "I know nothing of this Krum."

Harry grinned.

Then he remembered something.

"Hermione, what did you do to my scar?"

She beamed. "Oh, in our fifth year, when you were having all of the pain, I did some research, looking for a spell to alleviate it. Lucky I remembered it!"

"What _don't_ you remember?" Ron cooed in admiration.

"Wow, Hermione–" Harry started.

"Ron's idea," she cut him off. "I just did the finding."

Harry turned to Ron and stammered, "Thanks, mate."

Ron shrugged.

Feeling awkwardly sentimental, Harry changed the subject. "So, Hermione, any idea how to get Sirius out of that veil?"

"No," she sighed. "I need to do some research, probably in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, if I were to guess, but Hogwarts is closed, obviously."

"But we have access to a Professor's Pass," Harry reminded her.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, yes, of course! Do you think Luci would let us borrow it again?"

"I think Luci would give Harry anything he wanted," smiled Ron.

Harry blushed, but he hoped that Ron was right, because she certainly hadn't given him what he wanted… _yet_.

* * *

"So," Harry said as he walked over to her bedside later that night and sat himself in the chair. "Have you come to your senses yet?"

"Have _you_ come to _yours_?"

"I don't need to come to mine."

"Neither do I," said Luci, and she sat up against the headboard, laying a book aside. She folded her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Do you expect me to believe that you don't want this? You kissed me _back_ – _twice_!" Harry was losing patience.

"Well, how could I _not_? There's this unbelievable current that ignites between us every time we touch."

"I _know_, so why are you throwing it away?"

She exhaled slowly. "I'm not… throwing it away. It's just… a little back and forth lately."

He furrowed his brow.

"I'm fighting with myself," she explained.

"I fought with myself too. But I'm done with it. So why don't you stop, as well, and we can get to the good part?" He grinned at this last bit.

She clenched her jaw. "I'm trying to protect you."

"_Protect_ me?" he exclaimed, the smile sliding from his lips.

"I'm afraid, Harry!"

"Of _what_?"

"Of… you finding out how hard it is to be with me and… you leave… and we both get hurt."

All of a sudden, Harry understood.

"I'm not your father."

Luci blinked.

"Just because he left doesn't mean that everyone else will too."

Then, without any warning, she began to cry, placing her hands over her face, clearly uncomfortable. Harry was surprised when this didn't make _him_ uncomfortable at all.

"Eventually, you start to think that he didn't want you, so why would anyone else?" she sobbed through her fingers.

His heart was breaking, crumbling in his chest. "But it's not true, Luci."

"I know that, logically, but… A part of me will always be broken, and you deserve more than that."

Harry frowned. "You think I'm not broken?"

"It's… different."

"Yeah, it's worse for me."

Luci dropped her hands and stared at him, her eyes pink and tearful. He'd said the wrong thing.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she said, "No, you're right. But Harry, I've done so much damage. I've pushed you away and I've lied and half-lied and hurt you and I just don't see how you could possibly have any feelings for me. How can you _trust_ me? How can you even stand the _sight_ of me?" She was still avoiding his gaze, instead wiping her tears with the bed sheet.

He sighed exaggeratedly. "You always had good intentions. _That's_ how I can trust you. And you only _tried_ to push me away; it never worked."

"Apparently not," she agreed, a small smile slowly forming in her features.

Harry grinned back. "Look, I may be broken, but you make me feel like I can keep going anyway. And I forgive you. For all of it. I understand why you did most of those things."

Luci's eyes widened. "Wow, Harry, I… Most of them?"

"You pretended for ages that you didn't give a damn about me. I put myself out there, and you threw it back in my face."

"Mmm." She nodded shamefully. "I shouldn't have. But it was all I could think to do at the time. It was… a lot of things… my pride, my fear. Trying to protect you from… me. And I didn't _want_ to care about you, because I thought that you belonged to Ginny, and because I knew you'd distract me from taking care of my brother, and–"

"Wait, why did you think that I _belonged_ to Ginny?"

She tilted her head to one side. "She staked her claim on you pretty unmistakably."

He raised his eyebrows.

"She threw one of those flying ball thingies at me!"

"She didn't do that!" he scoffed.

Luci smiled softly. "Don't hold it against her. Any other girl would have done the same thing, and I don't blame her one bit."

Harry sat back in his chair, astounded.

"It's totally understandable. She loves you and she–"

"Stop," he cut her off again. "Don't worry about Ginny. She's seeing Neville now, so there's nothing in the way of us being together except _you_."

Something in Luci's face told him that she was glad of this news, but she still countered, "And the fact that we're wrong for one another."

"_What_?"

"It's true. You and my brother hate each other, we're from entirely different countries and backgrounds, and… and…" She seemed to be trying to come up with more reasons, her voice throaty from talking too much too soon. "And I'm too old for you!"

There was a headache forming vengefully in the hollows at Harry's temples, but he plowed on.

"That's rubbish, and you know it!" he roared, flying from his chair. "We're loads alike! We're both full of guilt and self-doubt, and we're… driven by love! I understand you, even if you think that I don't, and you understand me in a way that no one else ever has before! When I'm angry or uncertain or whatever, you always say the right thing; it's like you can see right into me! So you keep spouting off this stuff, but you're just doing it to convince me to leave you alone, and it's not gonna work, Luci, because I _love_ you!"

Her mouth fell open, as though she'd never encountered the concept before, and her hand went instantly to her stomach.

"I thought…" She frowned and shook her head. "I thought Voldemort was just screwing with me. Do you… do you _really_?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He was blushing furiously, half from disbelief that he'd spouted those words and half from infuriation at her. He'd never said anything so sappy to anyone and her response wasn't exactly what he would have hoped for.

She lapsed sullenly into silence, the exchange criminally lingering in the atmosphere. He was pacing edgily at the end of her bed.

Finally, with fresh tears in her eyes, she said, "Sometimes, your head has to rule your heart. And my reasons are all valid." But her voice was faint, as though she was running out of conviction.

"I say something like _that_ to you and you just…" He stopped and growled morosely from the tension. "I don't care about any of your _reasons_! We can get past all of that! I've gotten past much worse, believe me!"

"You know, you're saying these amazing things… It's kind of making my head spin." They were words that should have been accompanied by a jovial tone, but she sounded despondent.

"You think _my_ head's not spinning?" he seethed. "This is the strangest conversation I've ever had!"

Luci tucked a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her left ear. "Meaning?"

She was so resolved, and he felt anything but, which incensed him even more so.

"All I know is that I want to be with you and you're making it so bloody hard, and it doesn't have to be! Just… just let me in!"

"Harry… I _do_ want this. I want you, and _us_. I just… I think you deserve better than me, and it'd be selfish to let this happen."

"Is _that_ what this is about? You feeling unworthy of love?"

Her expression gave way to disgrace.

"But we'd be _brilliant_ together!" he cried, confounded by her rationale. "I don't get why you're so down on yourself, when there's just no logical reason…" Then he decided to turn it around on her. "And do you think _I'm_ worthy of love?"

She blinked, her brow furrowed. "Of course, I do."

"OK, well, I choose _you_. So there."

She grinned unexpectedly, the smile slipping into her eyes. "You really aren't gonna give up, are you?"

His irritation eased, but only slightly. "Not a chance."

"Luci Jordana Keegan!"

They both turned to see Luci's mother marching into the room.

"Not now, Mama," Luci sighed, giving Harry an apologetic glance.

"Harry, can I have a moment with my daughter, please?"

"I'll wait. We're not finished." He looked significantly at Luci and left the room.

He stood outside the door for a short while, trying to quell the frustration that he felt at Luci's reaction. She'd admitted how she felt about him, so why didn't she want a relationship with him? Was she really going to let her fears and insecurities ruin both of their chances at happiness? Neither of them had lived easy lives, and as far as Harry was concerned, they deserved to be together, to make it better for each other.

Melissa Keegan's head appeared around the corner, and the woman looked very satisfied with herself.

"She's all yours, Harry."

"All right, Luci," he started, as soon as he got back into the room. "I don't have the energy to keep at this, but I can't, in good conscience, give up on us just because you're scared. So I'll go round with you again later, but I'm not letting this go. We belong together and you know it."

He turned to leave the room.

"Harry, wait!"

He faced her again.

"Come here."

Harry marched wearily to the chair next to the bed and sat down.

"No, no, come _here_," Luci said again, scooting over in the small bed and patting the space next to her.

Butterflies instantly took flight in his stomach, but he moved to the bed anyway.

She smiled and grasped his hands. "I hope this is OK. I wanna be near you."

He swallowed, answering, "Me too."

"Listen…" she began, in a subdued manner that stripped him of his defenses. "You're right, Harry, I can't keep living in fear. Or _not_ living, as it were. I have to give this a chance."

"What did your mother say to you that I didn't say?"

Her lips curled slightly, but she continued, "Forgive me for trying to get rid of you. I was just getting to the point in my life where I was learning to accept that I'll never be the girl whose dreams come true. And now you're shaking my foundation, do you see? I'm not used to good things and I keep thinking it's all going to be ripped out from under me, and that maybe losing you would hurt more than never having you at all."

Harry opened his mouth to comment, but she shook her head and carried on.

"When I met you, something… shifted… inside of me." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I don't know, it was just… passion and desire and… admiration, because you… you're… _phenomenal_…" She went red at these words and Harry wanted to hug her. "But… all of it terrified me, because I was hiding so much from you, and I just knew that there was no hope for anything between us, and because I _am_ afraid of being abandoned."

Luci sighed and turned her eyes down to their two pairs of hands, still hanging onto one another. "But I'm not going to let anything keep me from you. Not anymore. I will… get over all of this… _stuff_."

"Well, good, because I'm not going anywhere," Harry heard himself say, though he was still soaking it all in. "I just… I want us to be together."

"Really?" she beamed. "Even after all I've put you through?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm never going to be easy to deal with."

Harry grinned. "I don't care. I'm not the easiest person to go out with either, you know."

She ran her tongue over her lips and then sighed. "OK, then."

"OK, what?"

"If you want me, I'm yours."

A wave of heat crashed within him. "I _do_ want you. Badly, actually."

Luci took a breath, scrunched her nose up playfully, and then pressed her mouth to his.

Harry felt everything around him move, and he put a hand on the bed to steady himself. Vibrations coursed through his body, dizzying him. She ran her palm along his wrist, up to his elbow, back down again, and sparks followed her fingertips as his skin reacted to her touch. She pulled away, and it hadn't lasted long enough.

Her eyes were glittering, and she inhaled deeply. "Sorry."

His blood still rushing, all he could manage was, "No."

Luci raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, don't be sorry."

"Oh," she smiled.

Their kiss had ignited the air with a breathless silence, and they could both only look at one another for a few moments, their faces merely inches apart.

Finally, she breathed, "Thank you."

Harry shook his head wordlessly.

"For putting up with me," she clarified. "I know that I'm… a handful, and I'm so sorry for making you fight so hard."

He grinned. "Oh, god, it was all worth it, believe me."

Luci laughed and his heart gave a resounding thump.

"So we're gonna do this then?"

He nodded. "If you're up for it."

"Oh, yes," she said, her eyes lighting up. "But Draco's not going to like this."

"Fantastic," beamed Harry. "That's the best part!"

In response to her exasperated expression, he went on, "I'm joking, but it's definitely a bonus."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You two are going to drive me crazy, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I thought I already did?"

"Well, yes, obviously."

"Hermione says you've been crazy about me for ages," he teased her.

"Oh, she does, does she?" Luci's cheeks went redder still.

"Is it true?"

She smiled demurely, and his heart skipped. "It's _mortifying_… but, yeah, I guess it's been ages. Since sometime in the fall. How long for you?"

He thought back and finally responded, "I'm not sure. I fought it so hard that I can't tell when it really began."

"We know why _I_ fought it, but why did _you_?"

She had put him on the spot. But he owed her the truth, after all of her confessions.

"Ginny was a big part of it. I didn't wanna hurt her. And I wasn't sure if I could trust you."

Luci gave him a small, wounded nod.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"No, it's understandable. Don't apologize for being vigilant. You had every right."

He reached up and trailed his fingertips along her cheek. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.

"It _has_ been ages for me too," he said.

Her lids fluttered open. "What took us so long?"

"I believe your words were, 'So damn stubborn.'"

She smiled. "Oh, right. Well, do tell Hermione that I'm mad at her for giving away my secrets."

Harry frowned, remembering something. "So I have a question."

"Oh," Luci responded, visibly thrown. "OK, shoot."

"In the Ministry, when you pulled that Death Eater off of me… you were so mad that I didn't recognize you."

She bit her lip. "I told you that I know about anger. I understand you so well because _I'm_ torrentially angry too. In that room, I just… lost control… It was like… He was hurting you and I had to make him pay. Things just sort of went black and next thing I know, you were shaking me."

"But it was illegal magic. Won't you lose your license?"

"Probably. Haven't heard from them yet but I'm expecting the worst, especially when they find out that I've been seducing a Hogwarts student."

She was grinning, but Harry sighed, "I'm sorry I got you into this."

Shaking her head adamantly, Luci replied, "Hey, I'm glad to be in this with you. And _I'm_ the one who performed that spell, and I'd do it again. If anyone comes near you, I won't hesitate. Ever. I will do _anything_ to protect my own. You, my mother, Draco, my friends. I'd kill for you, and I wouldn't have any regrets."

His mouth agape, he just blinked at her.

"That's where we're different, I guess," she said. "You don't think you're capable of killing, and I _know_ that I am. It takes something… that I can't describe… But even if you don't have it, you won't need it now, right? Let someone else take care of Voldemort."

Harry felt his shoulders sag at the reminder of the task ahead of him. "There's something I haven't told you."

"Oi, the secrets!" she joked.

"Seriously."

"OK?"

"_I_ have to kill Voldemort," he sighed.

"Why?" questioned Luci. "I don't understand why it has to be you. Just because he marked you all those years ago doesn't mean–"

"The prophecy," Harry interrupted. "There's a second part that isn't general knowledge. It says 'either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.' I _am_ the one he marked, so either I kill him or he kills me. No one else can take my place."

Luci's eyes were wide with fear. "But… it's just a silly prophecy, right? It doesn't _have_ to happen that way?"

He shook his head and squeezed her hands. "It _didn't_ have to, but Voldemort set everything into motion, and now I have no choice but to play my part in it."

She was pressing her lips together, as if trying to contain herself. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"I had no idea that you'd ever need to be told," he answered.

"So you work this hard to get me to give in to you and then you tell me that you're going on a suicide mission?" she barked, ripping her hands away from his.

"So _you_ think it's a suicide mission?" countered Harry.

Luci put her hands to her temples. "No, I didn't mean that. I _know_ you can defeat him, Harry, but I just… When are you going?"

"I'm not sure. I was waiting for you to wake up, so I guess I can go anytime now."

"Alone?" she choked.

He nodded. "Too many people have suffered. I need to face him on my own."

She took a shallow breath and looked away from him.

Harry snagged this opportunity to steer the conversation. "The old man with the sword. Who was he?"

Turning her eyes back to him, Luci answered slowly, as though she knew what he was up to but was going along with it anyway. "A Death Eater who had been waiting a long time to betray Voldemort. His name is Craig Cambias."

Where had Harry heard that name before? That's right – in the Pensieve!

"So you were in on it? Snape destroying the last Horcrux?"

Nodding, she replied, "Sort of. I knew that Severus and Craig both wanted Voldemort dead, so when I saw the sword, I went over to offer assistance, basically. I wanted it over and done. So Craig asked me to duel with him as a cover while Severus took care of the snake."

Harry was clenching his fists. "How did Snape know about the Horcruxes?"

"Craig knew about them. Somehow. So when the two of them figured out that they were both on the same side, it all kind of worked itself out. I brought it up to Severus, but he had already suspected anyway, so it was just confirmation. And then he must have guessed at the snake…"

"So you told Snape everything that I told you in confidence?"

"Not everything. Just enough to help," she said meekly, as though she thought he might fly off the handle.

He sighed. "Is this always your method of doing the right thing?"

Luci closed her eyes. "I'm afraid I may continually disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed," responded Harry, feeling like it was too late to be upset. "But in the future, could you just run these things by me? You didn't let me in on any of it, and it would have been helpful to know."

She shook her head. "You were determined to hate Severus. I would have _never_ been able to convince you that he was on our side."

"All right, good point. But in the future?"

"I won't be keeping anything from you ever again. I've learned my lesson."

He smiled, and in a sort of relief, she yawned.

"After four days of sleeping, you're still tired?" he joked.

"Well, someone cut me into pieces," she hurled back.

He frowned. "Still sorry about that."

"Still not," replied Luci cheerfully.

"Hey, where's the Professor's Pass?"

"On the floor in my room at your place. I was so… shattered after that soul-shaking kiss, I just left everything where I'd dropped it. Why?"

"Hermione needs to go to Hogwarts for some research," answered Harry, noticing a frisson in his chest at her use of the word "soul-shaking."

"Well, Severus won't be needing it back, so it's yours if you want it."

"It was Snape's?"

She smiled. "See, he wasn't such a bad guy. What's Hermione researching?"

"That veil in the Department of Mysteries - the Veil of Voices, apparently - we need to find out how to get Sirius out of it."

"Yikes," groaned Luci. "Sounds like mission impossible, but the three of you seem to find your way around and through anything, so I'm sure you'll do exactly that."

He rose from the bed and retorted impishly, "I _have_ been known to get what I want."

"Don't push your luck," she said with a grin, and then it vanished instantly and she went on, "And please don't go after Voldemort without telling me first."

"I won't."

"Hey, where have you been sleeping?" she asked all of the sudden.

Harry pointed to the chair.

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Wow, Harry, it really _is_ obvious."

He laughed. "Yeah, well."

"So where shall you sleep tonight?" inquired Luci.

He came back with, "No time for that. We're going to be up all night at Hogwarts."

"You and Ron and Hermione?"

"Yes, but you rest, and I'll be right back in my chair tomorrow."

"You'd better be."

At this, he leaned down and kissed her softly, and that current came to life once again, tossing his awareness into oblivion. He didn't want to sever it, but when he did, he breathed, "I _will_ be."


	27. Chapter TwentySeven: Exclusive

**Chapter Twenty-Seven – Exclusive**

Snape's Professor's Pass had been exactly where Luci had said it would be. Hermione had made a comment that Luci didn't take very good care of valuable items if she just left them on the floor, and Harry had smiled to himself.

The trek up to Hogwarts had been tiresome, as there was snow on the ground and the three of them hadn't been dressed for it. But they had managed to easily enter the gates, followed by the castle itself, and ultimately, the library, including the restricted section.

At present, Harry and Ron were both dozing, covered by blankets and with their heads in the books that Hermione had assigned to them. A nudge stole Harry from his sleep.

"I think I've got it!" Hermione said in an elevated murmur.

"Why are you whispering? We're the only ones here," Ron informed her, coming out of his slumber.

"Habit," she answered, and then, "Besides, Filch is still around somewhere, caring for the grounds, and _anyway_, this is the book!"

"What's it say?" Harry asked drowsily. In truth, he hadn't slept much during those nights in the chair.

"Time," replied Hermione.

"Time for what?" Ron asked.

"No, no! _Time_ is what will save Sirius!"

"Huh?" muttered Harry.

"Inside of the Veil of Voices, time doesn't work the same as it does _outside_ of it. It's almost suspended, in a way, but not quite. So if we can get Sirius backwards far enough, he might fly right out!"

"But wouldn't he be back in the middle of that battle with Malfoy's evil aunt?" Ron asked.

"Yes, but he could somehow keep his past self from falling through the Veil and then jump forward to us!"

"It could change the entire outcome of that battle if Sirius doesn't go through the Veil, Hermione," said Harry.

"No one ever said that time travel was uncomplicated."

"Well, in order for Past Sirius not to see Future Sirius, he'll need the Invisibility Cloak, and then, of course, we have to consider the entire past rewritten with Sirius _in_ it, which means that I would have been living with him this whole time and he would still be wanted for mass murder, and Kreacher and Grimmauld Place wouldn't be mine, and, of course–"

"Stop!" shouted Ron. "We get the point."

"You're right, Harry," Hermione sighed. "We just risk changing too many things. Maybe we can find another way."

"Maybe we're not _supposed_ to find a way at all," Harry replied sulkily.

"Maybe," agreed Hermione, "but if we can, we will."

But they couldn't. The three of them spent the entire night searching in vain, and then they returned to St. Mungo's, discouraged and exhausted.

They were greeted by a Healer who informed them that Percy had finally arrived to see Mrs. Weasley, which instantly put a grumpy expression on Ron's face.

"That git," he grumbled when the Healer was no longer in earshot.

"Well, I'm sure he's just worried about your mum," offered Harry.

"Sure, _now_ he's worried!"

"Better now than never at all," Hermione said, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder.

Harry grinned. "Good luck with all that, mate. I'm–"

"–off to see Luci, yes, we know," Ron griped, but his tone was good-natured, so Harry just shrugged in response and left the pair of them.

When he returned to Luci's room, he found her upon her bed, but fully dressed again in her Muggle clothes. Her mother was there, but so was a very unwelcome guest, and it appeared that he'd arrived just in time.

"I understand that you're Harry Potter's girlfriend of the hour, is that correct?" Rita Skeeter was saying, her Quick Quotes Quill scratching away on a piece of parchment.

"I don't… know about _that_…" Luci replied uneasily. "Of the _hour_?"

"And the daughter of a confirmed Death Eater, yes?"

"Ma'am, she needs her rest," Luci's mother scolded. "Can you do this another time?"

Rita disregarded her. "Is it not true that Mr. Potter has trampled hordes of hearts just to be with you?"

"No, I…"

"Then you'd say that the two of you are exclusive?"

"Yes, we are," said Harry nonchalantly as he strolled into the room.

The three of them turned their eyes to him. It seemed that he'd caught the reporter off guard.

"Sorry to interrupt," he continued, approaching the bed.

"Let the record state that Harry Potter has confirmed his relationship with a Miss Luci Keegan, daughter of Lucius Malfoy," Rita told her Quill, which scraped the paper in reply.

Luci beamed in welcome, ignoring Rita. "You aren't interrupting. Exclusive, eh?"

Melissa smiled warmly at Harry. "Well, I should hope so. The boy wouldn't leave your side while you were out."

"He meets the future mother-in-law," Rita whispered scandalously to her Quill.

Harry glared at her. "Get out!" he fumed.

"Freedom of the press," said Rita offhandedly.

"Or we can have you thrown out," Luci's mother contributed.

Rita scowled and pretended to be affronted. "Miss Keegan, I will be back to continue this interview. The public has a right to know about the private life of their hero!"

"Hero?" asked Harry, frowning, but Rita Skeeter did not respond, as she was now traipsing from the room.

Luci rolled her eyes. "How does she even _know_ any of these things?"

"Don't worry about her," he said. "She's dreadful but harmless."

"That's not what I understand," countered Melissa. "I hear the woman is toxic. And of _course_ you're a hero! All you've done - saving my daughter's life, scaring off the Dark Lord."

Harry didn't respond, due to his jaw falling to the floor, so she continued, "I'll leave you two alone."

As the small brunette woman exited the room, Harry gawked at Luci.

"Your mum is mental! I almost killed you!"

"She and I don't see it that way. Voldemort was going to kill me, there's no doubt about it, so you moving first saved my life. And you were paying enough attention to know that you couldn't really hurt me with that curse. I'm just grateful that you had such a crush on me."

Harry, growing warm, said feebly, "It's not a crush."

"Oh? I'm not just the girl of the hour, then?" she grinned.

Those wintergreen eyes ignited a fire inside of him, and he plopped himself down on her bed and answered, "No, you're just The Girl."

She laughed and cooed fondly, "You make me happy."

"Hey, it beats you being gloomy."

"_Please_, as if you're not gloomy half of the time too. In fact, you look pretty gloomy right now…"

He shrugged. "Tired of fighting. With you, with your brother, with questions, with the forces of evil."

"Well, you can take _me_ off that list. I was wrong. To make things so difficult for you. I guess I hoped you'd think I was a pain in the ass and give up and save yourself. But I've warned you and that's all I can do."

"You _are_ a pain in the ass," grinned Harry, "but I think I can handle you."

"I think you can too," she smiled. "So you really didn't leave my side?"

Harry shook his head. "But I have to leave now. We still need to figure out how to rescue Sirius."

"So the research didn't go so well?"

"Nope."

"Then you'll like _my_ news. I've been doing some delving myself."

"How?" asked Harry, moving closer to her, interested.

"This morning, I had a little visit with Craig Cambias."

"The Death Eater?"

"_Ex_-Death Eater. Anyway, he's pretty much seen it all, and I thought he might know something about this veil of yours."

"And did he?"

"Mmm hmm," Luci nodded.

"Well?"

"Well, it's not good."

He frowned. "Please tell me it doesn't involve time travel."

"Time travel?"

"Never mind."

Luci furrowed her brow but didn't probe further. "No, it involves sacrifice. The Veil of Voices collects souls, so if you want it to release Sirius, you have to offer it something in return, something more valuable than _his_ soul."

"How am I supposed to know what the Veil thinks is valuable?"

"Tortured souls," she answered. "The more tormented, the better."

"Then I bet it _loves_ Sirius," he sighed.

"Was he very tortured?"

"Very," he answered moodily. "Well, I guess _I_ could take his place."

"You could, but I'd come in after you and strangle you with my bare hands."

Harry would have smiled, had the situation not been so utterly hopeless.

Luci took a deep breath. "Harry, you have to promise me that you won't go through that Veil trying to save Sirius."

He glanced up at her.

"Promise me."

"I promise. But that means that he's never getting out."

"No, it doesn't. Push Voldemort though the Veil."

Now Harry _did_ smile. "Funny."

"I'm serious! We could find a way."

"Not likely."

"Pessimist."

Harry shook his head. "You don't know Voldemort."

"I've had my close encounter, remember?"

He gritted his teeth. He remembered very well.

"So what's next?" she asked. "Are you still going to investigate the Veil?"

"I should probably go after Voldemort," he replied bitterly.

"Now?"

"What's wrong with now?"

"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right, Harry, and I don't think you should go. Not yet."

He took her hand. "I know that you're worried, but you're going to be worried whether I go now or two weeks from now."

"Yeah, but then we'd have two weeks," she argued, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We'll have a lot longer than that when I get back."

Luci pressed her lips together, and as though she couldn't come up with anything to say in order to convince him not to go, she simply murmured, "I love you."

"I love you too." Every time he said it aloud to her, it was like releasing pent up energy.

"You know, I thought you'd gotten into that room because of Ginny. I really had no idea."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You must have had _some_ idea. I feel like I've been chasing you for ages!"

She laughed. "I refused to hope, I guess. And it _is_ hard to believe."

"Why?" he asked, but he would not receive the answer, because a Healer came flying into the room.

"Come quick!" she exclaimed breathlessly, and then disappeared from the door again.

Harry and Luci exchanged perplexed glances and then hurried from the bed and after the Healer.

She led them to Mrs. Weasley's room, from where Harry could hear sobbing. He stopped in his tracks.

"No," he said.

Luci reached out and grasped his hand. His eyes went to hers and he said again, "_No_."

She looked heartbroken and shook her head mournfully. He dropped her hand and rushed into the room.

Ginger hair met his eyes from every direction. Mr. Weasley sat by the bed, holding Mrs. Weasley's hand. The twins stood at the foot of the bed with their backs to Harry, but he could see Ginny flung over her mother's legs in despair. Bill and Percy were standing near one another, their heads down. Harry couldn't catch anyone's eye, but finally, his gaze met Hermione's. She was holding Ron, who had fallen to the floor, and she, too, was crying. Then she nodded, as if to tell Harry that it was, indeed, true.

Harry's legs felt funny, an odd weakness flooding over him. He reached out for something to steady himself, and he found Luci. She wrapped her arms around him and he fell into her, shuddering as a dam breaking and pressing his face into her silver-blonde hair. Finally, the tears had come. He cried for Mrs. Weasley, but also for his parents, and Dumbledore, and Sirius, and Hagrid, and Colin, and Charlie, and for his own suffering, and for the suffering of his best friend in this very moment. He could feel Luci's warm breathing on his neck. She was running her fingers through his hair as he shook. He opened his eyes, but his glasses were fogged, so he closed them again, sagging against her. He didn't know how long she'd held him as he'd cried.

Eventually, the grief mutated into the fury that he knew so well. He pushed himself away from Luci and immediately started for the door.

"Harry, hold on! Wait! Just a second!"

"I'm going to _kill_ him!" Harry growled, his jaw tight.

One backwards glance at her tear-stained face, and he could tell that Luci was almost as devastated as he was, but he kept walking.

"Please just _wait_, Harry!" she pleaded, trying to keep in stride with him, as he was now halfway down the hall.

"I'm going after him and you can't stop me!"

"Yes, I can."

Suddenly, he couldn't move his legs. She had frozen him to the spot and he'd almost toppled over due to the momentum she had severed.

"Luci, take it off!" he snapped.

"No," she answered firmly, stepping in front of him. "I can't let you go after Voldemort in this state of mind; you'll get yourself killed."

"I don't care! He's taken _everything_ from me!"

Luci came closer to him and pressed her hands against his chest. The pulsing anger slowed just a bit. "No, not everything."

His eyes snapped to hers and he felt a strange and unexpected tranquility wash over him.

"No, not everything," he echoed in agreement. "But almost everything."

"How important am I to you? How important are _they_?" She gestured towards Mrs. Weasley's room. "Important enough to _not_ risk your life?"

"Yes," he answered, "but I have to go."

"Not this instant. You need to calm down first."

"My best friend's _mother_ is dead!" Then he took a breath. "Luci, if this was about _me_, if this was really a choice that I had, it would be different. But I'm the one who has to take down Voldemort, and I'd rather not put it off any longer, especially because the spell I used on the pair of you may have weakened him. I can't afford to wait. It's been days already."

"Nice try, but I know you're being driven by wrath right now, not this logic you're spouting off at me. When rationality returns to your eyes, maybe I'll consider letting you go after Voldemort."

"_Letting_ me go?" he threw crossly at her.

She wrapped her arms around the nape of his neck and drew herself closer. His stomach lunged into his chest and then back into place again.

"Another loss," she said softly. "Yes, you deserve vengeance, but you told me yourself that when you go after him, it'll be about obligation, saving the world, fulfilling the prophecy. You need to be able to focus."

"You're right; I'm not ready," he sighed, suddenly plagued with despair and self-doubt.

"No, it's not _that_," she replied. "You _are_ ready. You just need to clear your head first."

He was barely listening, instead realizing how rash it would be to go after Voldemort at this stage. "I don't have nearly enough education or experience. How am I supposed to battle the greatest wizard alive?"

"Harry," Luci said, gently forcing his face towards her. "You've already defeated him once, and you were helpless at the time. _You_ are certainly one of the greatest wizards alive, yourself. I believe in you and I think that you have everything that you need. You know your strengths, you have remarkable instincts…"

"I'm… I'm _scared_… all of the sudden."

She tucked in her bottom lip. "And it's your _fear_ that makes you worthy. If it weren't so important, so significant, you wouldn't be scared. You see? You understand the necessity of killing Voldemort, and _that's_ why you're terrified to fail. If there was no fear, you wouldn't be the right person to do this."

"But what if I'm not able to kill him? I mean, taking someone's life…" Unexpectedly, he could feel his legs again, but he made no effort to move away.

"Voldemort isn't even human, Harry!"

He considered this. "Murder is murder," he resolved.

She sighed and shook her head. "Unbelievable. Look, if you get the chance to kill Voldemort, you can't hesitate. I will help you through the repercussions, but you have to be selfish for once and protect yourself. For _them_." She nodded towards the room again. "And for me. Because I'm starting to get attached to you."

Despite her effort at levity, Luci was taking in shuddering breaths. He could see that she was petrified for him, and though he was beleaguered with his own grief, he certainly didn't want to cause her any.

"I _will_ come back, Luci. We've only just started and I haven't had enough of you."

She smirked half-heartedly. "And when _will_ you have enough?"

"Never. We've been over this."

Her expression turned sullen again.

The sight of this filled Harry with even more misery, and he swept her closer, into a full embrace. She tightened her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He loved how small she was. No other girl could make him feel this _able_. An unexpected hope overtook him and he knew for certain that this wouldn't be the last time that he would hold her.

He inhaled her sugary scent and then forced himself to say, "I have to go."

She looked up at him, reaching a hand, and ran her thumb lovingly over his scar. He closed his eyes, relishing her touch.

Then she took a deep breath and began to recite a sort of chant, her voice low and melodic. Comforting warmth washed over Harry, very similar to the feeling that he'd had the first time he'd kissed her. There was no wickedness in the world, only love and joy and peace and…

It was over. He opened his eyes.

"Wh…? What did you do?"

She didn't answer immediately, her own eyes only just reopening. "It's an advanced protective spell. It can only be forged with love. I used it on Draco - not a scratch on him. And it'll work for you too." Then she smiled softly. "See, love really _is_ your power."

He nodded. "I know that now."

"Feeling lucid again then?"

"Yes," he answered, and it was true. Harry now had a sense of being entirely prepared and competent. Under the continued protection of his mother's love, and now Luci's, as well, he felt like nothing could stop him.

"Take care of the Weasleys for me."

"I will," agreed Luci. "Is there anything else that you need?"

"Number eight, Spinner's End. That's where I'm going. Just in case."

"Right, but you're coming back?" It was a question, but she sounded sure of the answer.

"I have you to come back to?"

"Yes, you do."

"Then nothing could keep me away."

He brought his mouth to hers, once again generating that heavenly lightning between them. Then, before he could change his mind, he broke the kiss, breathed, "See you soon," and Disapparated.


	28. Chapter TwentyEight: His Mother's Eyes

**Chapter Twenty-Eight – His Mother's Eyes**

It was early afternoon when Harry appeared in the middle of a quiet Muggle street. Fortunately, he had made a previous stop and collected the Invisibility Cloak from Grimmauld Place. Aside from a few birds scattering, there was no evidence of his being there.

He was relieved to find that, despite the frigid air, there was very little snowfall on the ground, not nearly enough to leave footprints. Still, he walked gingerly on his tiptoes to the cottage at number eight. It was impossible for one to know what spies Voldemort had at his command, and Harry determined that he had to be overly cautious. As he approached, his lurking doubt was resurfacing.

It was a small, single story house that appeared to be very run-down, when in contrast to its neighbors. It certainly didn't look like the headquarters of the embodiment of evil. The lawn was dead, covered in scattered patches of snow, and the concrete walkway was cracked in multiple places. One of the two front windows was broken, so when Harry tried the door and discovered that it was locked, he merely raised the window frame and climbed into the house.

In the middle of what he deduced to be the sitting room, Harry came upon a very confused Death Eater. The man was sitting up rigidly in an armchair and staring blankly at the window that had seemingly just unfastened itself. Harry couldn't identify him, as his previous encounters with Death Eaters had usually seen them all clothed in masks, but he struggled not to laugh aloud at the man's befuddled expression. He was as round as Uncle Vernon, but he wore his ruddy hair down to his shoulders, a fashion that looked absurd on an older man such as himself.

"Crabbe!" he called suddenly, startling Harry.

"What is it?" came a grunt. Another man poked his head into the room, and Harry recognized him as Vincent Crabbe's father.

"How old is this place?"

Crabbe frowned. "How the hell should I know? What does it matter anyway?"

The first man was sucking on the inside of his chubby cheeks thoughtfully. "I think it might be… _haunted_."

Harry pressed himself against the wall near the window and tried to remain absolutely still.

"Haunted, you say?" said Crabbe derisively.

"That windowpane there - just slid open all by itself."

"Bollocks!" Crabbe replied. "Sounds like your shift has been too long. Why don't I find someone to take over for you?"

"Who?" asked the man in the chair. "Our numbers are dwindling. There are only three of us on duty today. The Dark Lord will be furious if he's told that I'm too tired for the job. And I'm _not_, by the way. Let's just forget about the window."

"Your prerogative," agreed Crabbe, and then he disappeared again into the adjacent room.

Harry now knew that there was only one other Death Eater in the house, unless the man in the chair was referring to Voldemort as the third, but Harry found this unlikely. Death Eaters never seemed to count Voldemort amongst themselves, instead revering him as a higher being of some sort. Harry almost gagged on the thought.

Now his task was to get out of this room without drawing any more attention to himself. The problem with this was that he wasn't sure in what direction he would find Voldemort. Snape had said something about a cellar, but there were two areas adjoining this room – the first concealing Crabbe and the second appearing to be a hallway.

Then it struck Harry that his best bet was going to be to incapacitate all of the Death Eaters, in order to give himself a clear shot at Voldemort.

The Death Eater in the chair was still studying the window, a look of suspicion in his flabby features. He did not make a move to close the pane again, and Harry could only assume that he was hindered by his fear of ghosts. So Harry aimed his wand at the man and focused his thoughts. He had never been too successful with nonverbal spells, however, and nothing happened. He was going to have to speak, which would alert the other Death Eater to his presence. Harry hoped that the senior Crabbe was as thick as he knew his son to be.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," said Harry firmly, though as quietly as he could.

"What the–" stuttered Crabbe, appearing once again in the doorway.

Ready for him, Harry shouted, "_Engorgio_!"

Crabbe, who was not a small man to begin with, enlarged grotesquely and became instantly lodged in the doorframe.

"Who's there?" roared the Death Eater. "Inferi!"

"_Silencio_!" commanded Harry. Then, in bewilderment, "_Inferi_?"

Crabbe continued to shout and writhe, but he was entirely inaudible. His bulging eyes searched the room wildly for the source of the attack, his flesh making a squeaking noise as he thrashed against the wood.

Then, to Harry's consternation, Crabbe's swollen body broke free from the doorframe, the timber splitting vociferously, and the Death Eater came sailing in Harry's direction. Harry flung himself out of the way and then scrambled to his feet, ready to battle Crabbe if the man was able to get upright.

There was another dilemma, however, for behind him, Harry heard a hideous grousing. It was not an unfamiliar sound, and he turned slowly, sick with fear.

Animated corpses were now pouring from the room, coming straight for Harry. He couldn't count them, but it appeared that they could see right through the Cloak. Behind them, he noticed that the room was a kitchen, which meant that his desired course was down that hallway.

The odor of decay was suddenly so overpowering that Harry found that he could no longer easily take in breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Crabbe attempting to crawl out of the room.

Harry swallowed the nausea rising up to the back of his throat and shot "_Stupefy_!" Crabbe's inflated body ceased its squirming and went completely motionless.

Then he spun back around and managed, "_Flagrate_!" in the direction of all of the Inferi.

The spell ignited from Harry's wand, and the stricken targets hissed wretchedly in reaction. A few of them were retreating, so he continued to launch the hex repeatedly. It wasn't always a perfect shot, though, and he had managed to set fire to the rotting carpet, as well as to some of the fractured wood pieces that were dispersed upon the floor.

"_Aguamenti_!" he tossed at the flames around his feet. But as soon as one fire was out, he was lighting another, attempting to hold off the cadavers.

Swiftly, a vicious stinging lashed at Harry's left arm. He wailed in pain, recognizing that the Cloak had caught fire, and dispensed water upon himself. The flames were extinguished, but the smoldering sensation remained. He bit down hard and ignored the throbbing, instead heaving more of the inferno at his aggressors.

They seemed deterred by the blaze, but there were still many of them blocking the hallway. Harry had to find a way to redirect them, to move them from his path. Continuing to shout, "_Flagrate_," unrelentingly, he toyed with running outside, hoping they'd pursue him. But this was a Muggle street, he reminded himself, putting that plan out of the question.

Then he conceived that he _could_ move them! "_Mobilicorpus_!"

The Inferi did not ascend in the slightest, and this seemed to convince them that Harry was running out of steam, so they made another strong advance, Harry all the while casting the conflagration charm against them.

But they were upon him. One of them seized him by his wand arm, and though its hand didn't touch Harry's skin directly, he felt his body go ice cold. He tried to shake the corpse, but it was to no avail. They were bearing down, and with their stench and their weight consuming him, Harry found himself wanting to give up, to just stop fighting, to die dutifully as he was probably meant to do in the end anyway. He struggled to grasp at the slippery strands of hope and motivation, trying to remember Luci's spell, because it had made him feel so capable. He kicked at the Inferi, as they had now pinned him to the floor. His mind was scrolling through a list of spells, searching for something to get him out of this mess.

He decided on, "_Clypeus_!" and though his wand went with the Inferi, he found a solid barrier between the bodies and himself. Uplifted, he summoned his wand, and then he moved to a better position in the room, just in time for the protective bubble to dissolve.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" he chanted, when he'd gained enough ground, and the closest Inferius rose into the air. Harry had a crack at directing it back into the room, but this took too much time, and he was forced to drop the creature only a few feet into the process in order to defend himself from a new onslaught.

"_Reducto_!" he yelled, and then he began to use the banishing charm to send each dead body away from him, afterwards utilizing the levitation spell again, delivering them all back into the kitchen from which they'd come. It was an extensive procedure, as many of them would wander back out once he'd gotten them in there. His solution for this was to begin to employ the binding spell, fastening them to one another.

Finally, the passageway that Harry hoped led to the cellar was relatively clear. There were still quite a few Inferi rambling through that front area, and flames licked here and there, but he couldn't handle it anymore. His right arm was aching, his left arm blistering, his mind frazzled, his lungs constricting from the smoke. He took his chance and dashed past the adversaries and down the hall, flying through a doorway and then losing his footing, as a staircase had been awaiting him. He tumbled down it, hitting the bottom with a painful thud.

"_Colloportus_!" he waved breathlessly at the door above him, and it sealed itself obediently.

Harry got to his feet, pulling the Cloak back into place, and gasping for air. He bent down to retrieve his wand, which had been launched about a yard away from him. Then he straightened up to see Voldemort positioned before a large desk, in a high-backed chair, and he seemed to be penning something, his quill scratching obnoxiously in the silence.

He made no indication that he was aware of Harry's company, even though it had been a very thunderous entrance. After a moment, however, he said without warning, "Ah, Harry Potter," and put down his quill.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

As Voldemort turned his head to the side, Harry saw a piece of torn flesh on his neck, a lasting indication of the _Sectumsempra_ curse.

The Cloak flew from Harry's body. He sucked in a breath, his stomach turning over.

Voldemort rose magisterially. "Wondered when we'd be seeing you. You always _did_ know how to make your presence known." Then he paused. "Harry…" He sniffed delicately and turned his eyes to the staircase down which Harry had fallen. "Are you burning down my house?"

Harry gritted his teeth and disregarded the question. "If you knew I was coming, why didn't you leave?"

The Dark Lord blinked serenely. "I desire battle with you as much as you desire battle with me. It is our destiny. I feel no need to flee from it. Come alone, have you?"

Harry's fist was clenched around his wand, his fingernails digging into his palms. Voldemort appeared to be unarmed, giving Harry the perfect opportunity…

"_Stupefy_!" he shot, but Voldemort simply waved his hand, shooing the spell away.

Harry made a low growl, and the Dark Lord leered.

"How's your little dead girlfriend?" asked Voldemort balefully, as Harry hadn't responded to his previous query.

Harry had to resist the urge to smile victoriously in response.

"Ah, not dead at all, I see. Interesting. Very desired skill, regeneration. Perhaps I'll pay her a visit when we're finished here?"

Enraged at himself for failing to at least _attempt_ to close his mind, Harry seethed, "You touch her and I'll–"

"You'll _what_? Come back from the death I've sent you to and seek revenge?" Voldemort smirked venomously. "You _will_ be dead soon, you realize."

"We'll see," said Harry, the loathing like acid filling his gut.

"My new wand, Wormtail," called Voldemort abruptly.

Wormtail! Harry had forgotten about him! He couldn't recall seeing him at the Ministry when he and Luci had returned to the room. Perhaps Voldemort had valued him too much to allow him to stay in the battle.

"As you wish, Master," said Peter Pettigrew sycophantically as he ambled into the room from a door that Harry hadn't yet noticed until now, delivering a smooth wooden rod.

"_Impedimenta_!" Harry shot, striving to slow Wormtail so that he could then have time for a go at Voldemort.

But once again, he had underestimated the Dark Lord's velocity. He had simply reached out his withered palm to obstruct the spell.

"I'll take that," said Voldemort, summoning Harry's wand away from him.

Harry suffered a stab of panic.

"Hold onto this, Wormtail," ordered Voldemort, and the servant swaddled Harry's wand possessively.

"A new wand, Potter, to prevent any past mishaps from reoccurring, you see," explained Voldemort disdainfully.

An insight floated into Harry's consciousness. "You… you kidnapped Mr. Ollivander!"

Voldemort tilted his head in affirmation. "I did not kill him, however, so I'm sure you can forgive me."

Hampered by the lack of a wand and practically melting in the heat of his own rage, Harry's only option was to ask the questions that were pounding on the door of his mind. If nothing else, he could temporarily distract Voldemort and receive some answers before he met his end.

"That night, all those years ago, why did you offer to let my mother live?" His voice was as cold as he could make it. He refused to show any vulnerability.

The Dark Lord raised his eyebrows, interested in this turn of events. After a moment, he answered casually, "Well, you see, Wormtail here had been quite useful to me, and he fancied your pretty little mother, so I agreed to allow him to keep her for himself, assuming she didn't get in the way. She _did_, of course, and it didn't work out. Too bad, really. Wormtail has been rather lonely, haven't you, Wormtail?"

Every muscle in Harry's body was pulsing with anger, the new information like attrition to his heart. He turned to Peter Pettigrew. "_You_! You were there that night too! You _let_ him kill her!"

"She was making things difficult for the Dark Lord. It was _she_ who chose her fate."

"You betrayed my mother and then you intended to imprison her? What is that – like a love slave?"

Wormtail shrugged, a creepy sneer shadowing his features.

"They were your _friends_!" Harry spewed, the burning fury swelling tenaciously, and it was taking his entire strength to keep from exploding, from screaming, from violence.

"I got in with _better_ friends," Peter answered scathingly.

In a hot surge of rage, something broke inside of Harry and he lost control of himself. "_Accio wand_!" he commanded, and in an instant, his wand was back in his hands, and he had bellowed, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

With a disgusting plunk, Wormtail toppled backwards.

Voldemort was obviously caught off-guard by Harry's actions, but he merely commented, "Pity."

Harry howled with incense. "And _you're_ next!"

Then he swore aloud, realizing that he was spilling tears everywhere. He had just passed irrevocably across a line that had separated him from his former self. He had committed murder. And he would never be the same.

Voldemort was surveying him calmly. "For a moment, I thought perhaps your heart _had_ grown cold. I almost considered asking you, once more, to join me. But it appears that you are still far too weak."

"If I'm weak," Harry began, trying to quell his emotion, "then why were you so afraid of me when I was nothing more than an infant? Why are you so eager to fight me now?" His stomach was writhing, and there was something repulsive clawing at the walls of his body from the inside. _Was_ it the need for revenge?

The Dark Lord smiled repressively. "Back then, I was only trying to avert events that would not be to my liking, were they to happen in the future. You mustn't take it personally. _Presently_…" He paused and ran his eyes over Harry, who probably looked quite an ineffectual wreck. "Well, I suppose I hoped you might someday be a worthy opponent for me, but, alas, you are still only a pathetic boy who too often succumbs to incapacitating human emotion."

Harry felt as though his heart hit the soles of his feet and then bounced back up again. He remembered his strength, what he had to live for, _who_ he had to live for. His human emotion was the greatest power that he could wield against the Dark Lord, or against any evil. He tried to keep this inspiration fresh in his mind.

"Is that why you haven't taken my wand from me again?" he asked in an endeavor to sound unaffected. "You think I'm harmless?"

"Are you not?" inquired Voldemort glibly.

"I've been rather detrimental to you in the past, don't you think?"

"I miscalculated your wily mother, perhaps, but you, Potter, have merely had very good fortune."

"What makes you think that fortune has left me now?" asked Harry, in tones of outrage. He'd often had the same notion himself – that his multiple survivals had simply been due to luck. But he couldn't believe that, not now, not in this crucial moment.

"If fortune is on your side, she is the only one, for you are otherwise alone."

"So are you."

"Enough!" roared Voldemort suddenly. "I am not here to banter with you, boy! _Ava_–"

"_Stupefy_!" reacted Harry.

Voldemort hissed when their spells simply collided and defused. "You've done it once this afternoon! Let's see you try it again! Make your effort against the most powerful wizard the world has ever known! Or have you not the courage?"

He aimed his wand once more, but Harry threw, "_Reducto_!"

"Children's spells, you imbecile!" barked the Dark Lord, getting to his feet and moving forward again.

"I thought we weren't here to banter? _Crucio_!"

Voldemort slid out of the way this time and retorted, "Working our way back up, are we? _Crucio_!"

The curse struck Harry with full force, and he was on the floor, writhing, wrestling with the pain. If he gave in, he would lose. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Voldemort was hovering above him, a pleased smile on his flat face. Harry fought to raise his wand, and then he croaked, "_Caecus_!"

The blinding spell that Luci had taught him had hit Voldemort right between the eyes, and he had flung himself backwards in shock.

Harry was getting to his feet, shaking off the horrible sensations.

"Curse you, Potter! What is this trickery?"

He grinned in triumph, but then he noticed that the Dark Lord seemed to be morphing into a different kind of being, his red pupils bleeding to the very edges of his eyelids, pushing out all of the white. Harry gaped in horror, in intrigue, forgetting the situation.

Voldemort was still fully capable of vision, apparently, for he positioned his wand firmly at Harry and snarled, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry abruptly felt as though he was being crushed from all sides and he just knew that his head was exploding. Somewhere in the noise, he could hear screaming. Were those his own screams? He realized that his knees were aching, as he'd fallen onto them with full force. He put his hands to his head in agony.

"_Her eyes_!" he kept hearing. Over and over again, "_Her eyes_!"

White-hot pain was spreading from Harry's scar, and he became assaulted by memories. Images paraded through his brain – his mother, his father, the encompassing green light, the heartless laughter. A stream of faces materialized, people he'd lost, those he'd failed. He found himself fighting to keep the dark shadows of his past from smothering him, but he _was_ being smothered. He couldn't breathe, darkness pushing in on all sides, and there was so very, very much pain…

Eventually, some form of consciousness returned to him. He fell into a lengthy dream, wherein he was unable to see anything, but he could hear screaming, pleas for mercy, and heart wrenching sobs of infinite despair.


	29. Chapter Twenty9: The Prophecy Fulfilled

**Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Prophecy Fulfilled**

A distant clap of thunder met his ears. Harry's eyes fluttered open to reveal that familiar cracked ceiling. Violent raindrops were slamming against the darkened window. His head was aching mercilessly, and it took him a moment to realize that he was alive, and he marveled at this. Then he noticed that there was something heavy on his chest, and he attempted to dislodge it, groaning with the effort.

"Ow!" A gasp. "_Oh my god_!"

Searing pain shot through his arm, the one he'd burned while fighting the Inferi. Luci must have been lying against him, and he'd shoved his wounded elbow into her.

"_Oh my god, Harry, I thought you were_…"

"What?"

But she was smothering him in kisses and he was engulfed from head to toe in tingling sensations. Her soft hair toppled into his face, and her lips were on his mouth, his forehead, his neck, his cheeks, his mouth again…

Leaving trails of moisture.

"Luci, are you _crying_?"

She sniffed, lifting her head, but their faces were still almost touching.

"It's just… they said you were going to die… and I was so… terrified. I thought you'd never wake up again and someone would just come to my room one day soon and tell me you'd–" She broke off and sniffed again.

Harry was confused, not knowing what had happened and how he'd gotten here, but the emotion in her voice made him want nothing else but to comfort her. A tear dropped down onto his cheek, but he didn't move to wipe it away, instead running a hand lovingly along her back. "I told you that I wouldn't leave you and I meant it."

She inhaled slowly, deeply. Then she resumed with covering him in salty kisses. He grinned and made no effort to stop her, only kissing her in return when her mouth met his.

Finally, he mumbled, "Luci?"

"Hmm?" She kissed his nose.

"Why are you in my bed?"

She sat up and looked quizzically down at him. He could only see her face due to the lightning illuminating the room every now and then, making her hair appear as silver as the moon.

"A boy should never question a girl in his bed."

He smiled. "No, I agree! What I meant is – why am _I_ in my bed?"

"Oh! Well, we found you and… and the Healers, they told us you would die, and I thought _I_ would die if you died, and they said there was nothing we could do, so we brought you back here to… to wait, I guess… I'm sorry; I am so elated that I can't talk straight!"

Laughing, Harry pulled her back down against him. She nestled her head against his chest.

"It's the middle of the night. So what _are_ you doing in my bed?"

"Being near you. Hoping for you to wake up. I couldn't sleep." She paused. "How do you feel?"

He sucked in a breath. "Damaged."

"What do you mean – damaged?"

He shrugged beneath her weight. "I just feel… different." He searched his mind for the right word. "Tarnished," he explained.

Luci raised her head and he could tell that she was looking at him curiously. "What on earth _for_?"

He swallowed, hesitating. Thunder cracked ominously outside the window.

"You can tell me anything, Harry, you know that. I'm never going to judge you for what happened in that basement."

He nodded and answered slowly, "I… I killed Peter Pettigrew."

Luci laughed unexpectedly, and his eyebrows flew up in response.

"You didn't kill him, Harry!"

"What? Yes, I did! I used the killing curse on him! He… he fell right over!"

"You must not have meant it, because he was alive when we found you. Barely, but barely is enough."

"He's _alive_?" Harry sat up and she was forced to do the same.

"Yep. Upstairs, in fact."

"_Sorry_?"

"Actually, Hermione and I… we took care of some things…"

"What did you do, Luci?" he demanded.

"Don't get worked up. This is _good_ news."

"Wormtail in my house is _good_ news?"

"Just listen. I had an idea, and I dragged Hermione into it a little bit, but it was mostly me, so don't be angry with her. I just… I wanted to do something for you, because you've done so much for me. Even if you weren't going to survive, I wanted to. So I…" She stopped, as if she thought he might not like the next part.

He got impatient. "_Well_?"

She sighed. "After you'd been gone for too long, I got worried and went to Spinner's End to look for you. Alastor and Remus and Tonks, they all came too. We brought you and Peter to St. Mungo's, and they thought for sure that _you_ wouldn't make it, but they said that Peter would live, and they'd just send him to Azkaban, but... but I thought that was too good for him, and I had a better arrangement. So I enlisted Hermione to help me brew up the Draught of Living Death–"

"You brewed it?" he cut in, remembering the potion's difficulty. "Did you _crush_ the sopophorous beans? It works better." It was a stupid question, and Harry didn't know why it had just slipped out. Lack of clarity, perhaps.

"_What_? The potion was _fine_! Anyway. When the Healers were convinced that Peter was dead, we took him from the hospital, and now he's upstairs. All we have to do is get him to the Ministry and we can trade him for Sirius. He's plenty tortured, from what you've told me."

She paused, as if waiting for Harry to yell at her, but he just sat there with his eyes wide.

"Oh, and I forced him to confess to framing Sirius. Just in case."

Harry's mouth was now hanging open, but he remained silent.

Feebly, Luci prompted, "Yay?"

"I… I can't believe you did this!" he exploded abruptly.

"I'm sorry, but I–"

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "You're bloody brilliant!"

"You're not mad at me? I would have asked you, but it wasn't really possible, under the circumstances."

"No, this is _perfect_! _I_ didn't kill Wormtail, and now we can send him to a fate that's fit for all of his crimes!"

"Yes," nodded Luci, sounding relieved. "But you _did_ kill Voldemort, Harry."

"No, I didn't! _He_ tried to kill _me_!"

"What? He AK-ed you?"

"Yep."

She made a puzzled sound. "But… that's impossible… You're alive, he's dead…"

"Are we _sure_ he's dead?"

"Well, we're sure _you're_ alive… but yes! Yes, I mean, I _think_ so. He was human. Ugly, but human. Just a… a human body, lying there. We checked his pulse and I kicked him around a little…" She grinned sheepishly, and Harry realized that his eyes were adjusting to the darkness. "Then Alastor burned his body."

It was like a bolt of lightning, and it wasn't due to the rainstorm.

"He's dead," breathed Harry faintly.

Then something cumbersome and gnawing lifted from his body, something he hadn't been without for a very long time. He fell back onto his pillow in revelation. He closed his eyes.

_Voldemort is dead, _he repeated to himself.

Years of his life, spent with so much burden. And now it was gone. _Dead_. He felt a levity that he'd never known, not even when he'd thought he was a Muggle, not even when he was flying on a broom. He had won. There would be no more battles and no more losses and no more obligation. The prophecy, his destiny, had been fulfilled.

_Voldemort is dead_.

Even with the storm raging on outside, the world was vivid and hopeful. His _life_ was vivid and hopeful, and it never had been before. This felt _spectacular_!

After what must have been several minutes, he opened his eyes and reached his hand out to her. She had been sitting there silently, letting it sink in for him. She curled her fingers around his, but waited for him to speak first.

Finally, he said, "It's over."

"Yes. And you didn't even have to kill anyone," she agreed cheerily.

"I just… I don't know how he died. I think the curse backfired again, because he started going on about someone's eyes and I don't remember anything else."

"Well, they _are_ amazing eyes…" said Luci uncertainly.

Harry gasped in comprehension. "No, my _mum's_ eyes! He was saying, '_Her_ eyes,' and who else could it be? Maybe it was just like the first time!"

"The first time?"

"My mum, she died to save me. Maybe her love protected me again. And I had your spell too. He was so much more powerful and I had no hope at all, just… love, I guess."

"Sounds like it was enough. Too bad I burned that damned book of protective spells after I thought it had failed me," she griped, but her tone was merry.

"I feel _great_!" chimed Harry suddenly, releasing her hand and sitting up again. "Let's go get Sirius!"

Luci laughed and pushed him gently back down onto his bed. "It's pouring, it's the middle of the night, and we have to wait for the Draught to wear off anyway. So you're going to rest and then you can take Ron and Hermione to get Sirius in a few days."

"You're bossy when you're happy."

"It's a good thing you've had all those years with Hermione to get used to bossy girls, eh?"

He grinned, then questioned, "Why won't you come with us to get Sirius?"

"Well, the three of you, it's kind of your thing."

"Our _thing_?"

"Yeah, rescue and whatnot."

"You're mental sometimes, Luci, you know that?" But he laughed.

"There's a fine line between genius and insanity," she retorted jovially.

"I want you to come."

"That place… The memories are too fresh. I'd rather not. Besides, Harry, if it works, it's going to be _huge_ for you. Ron and Hermione have been there with you, and though I very much intend to occupy your future, this is about your past. Anyway, I have plans to make."

He understood her position and decided not to push her, since the Department of Mysteries held particularly bad memories for him, as well, some of them the same as hers. So he simply asked, "What plans?"

"I need to go home."

He almost choked on the breath of surprise.

"_Temporarily_," she explained. "I have to tie up some loose ends, help Mama pack, say my goodbyes, that kind of thing. Shouldn't take long."

"You're _moving_ here?" asked Harry hopefully. "_Both_ of you?"

"Of course," she answered. "My home is near you and my brother."

Malfoy. How irritating. Harry still wished that she wasn't his sister.

"Where will you stay?"

"Draco offered to let me stay at Malfoy Manor until my mom gets moved here, and then we'll get a place of our own."

"No more midnight duels, then?"

She was silent for a second, and he could just barely make out her discomfited expression.

He swallowed. "Sorry; I didn't mean anything by it. It's just been… nice… having you down the hall."

"Yes," Luci sighed, "but you can't imagine how hard I've had to try to keep my hands off of you all this time. I don't trust myself to stay down the hall anymore."

Harry's stomach shimmied happily, but he merely said, "That's a shame."

She clapped him playfully on the leg. "You still wanna study to be an Auror then?"

"Yes, and I expect your help. If you're striving to be like Hermione, bossy isn't her only attribute! She practically got me and Ron through Hogwarts."

Laughing, Luci replied, "It's a deal. Hermione is my hero."

"Wait… what about your license?"

"Mmm," she responded. "Suspended for six months."

Harry gasped and started to apologize.

"Hey, I'm _lucky_," she cut in. "I could have been fined or tried or fired entirely. They were lenient because they took into account that I was just trying to protect someone that I loved, and then, of course, they took into account that I loved you in the first place, and they weren't too pleased with that, so."

"Well, _I'm_ pleased."

"Of course you are! You have me all to yourself, as I'm out of work for six months. Just don't make me get a real job!" she pleaded jokingly.

"There's the Luci I fell for," he said, dragging her down again.

"Was I gone?"

"You went through a gloomy spell."

She paused thoughtfully. "Did I?"

"Yeah, your first few months here, you were _always_ joking around. You even made Malfoy laugh, which is something, believe me – the guy is a bore."

"Be nice," she said lightheartedly, but then her tone changed. "I was always a _little_ gloomy… I came here out of duty, you know. Because family is very important to me, whether _I_ am to them or not. But I had no affection for Draco, at first. The jokes were a defense, to keep me from getting too attached. I knew that I couldn't protect him as well if my emotions were involved. It didn't work, obviously, with you _or_ him. Not that I don't have a sense of humor, of course, but when no one was looking, I was always a _little_ gloomy. When the mask came off."

"And how am I to know that _this_ isn't the mask?" teased Harry.

She pulled away, all mirth draining from her eyes.

"You can't get past it," she said accusingly.

"_What_?" he croaked in alarm, catapulting upright.

"You're not ready to do this with me."

"It was a _joke_." He was floored by her mood swing.

She was affronted. "You're _joking_ about how I've damaged your trust?"

Harry reached out for her. "Luci, it's the _past_. You're putting words in my mouth. I thought we'd dealt with all of this?"

She inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry," she breathed, succumbing to his touch. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just have this lurking guilt over everything that I kept from you. I'm sorry. I'll try to stop. I knew it was a joke; I just… I'm sorry." She swore. "I must be out of my mind – I just got you back and I'm snapping at you. I didn't mean it."

"_I've_ forgiven you, so forgive yourself," he murmured, stroking her arm affectionately. Sometimes, he forgot how combustible she could be. A relationship with her would never be dull, that was certain.

She scoffed. "This from the guy who can't forgive himself for anything?"

He shrugged.

"Do as I say, not as I do?"

"Huh?"

"It's something we both struggle with, I guess," Luci went on. "It's funny, because you have so many wonderful qualities, but one that stands out is your ability to forgive. You've forgiven me, and loads of other people, for countless things, but you can't forgive yourself. I, on the other hand, don't forgive anyone, _including_ myself." Then she laughed lackadaisically.

"You forgave me for slicing you up," he pointed out, attempting to change the atmosphere.

"Sure, but that's because I love you and you did it to protect me. You forgive people you _don't_ love, and I'm incapable of that."

"Like who?" inquired Harry, his brow furrowed.

"Like Peter Pettigrew. You said you let him go all those years ago."

"That was _pity_, not forgiveness!" he countered. "I did later try to kill him, remember?"

She shrugged. "Never mind all this. I will work on forgiving myself if you do the same. How 'bout that?"

"Ah, a competition?"

"If that helps," she said, and he could hear the flippancy return to her voice.

"You should know that I rarely lose."

"I _do_ know that."

He smiled through a yawn.

Luci stood abruptly and said, "Go to sleep, Harry."

"You're leaving?"

"Yep, and you're going to sleep."

"Now?"

The corners of her mouth quirked up. "Yes, before I change my mind."

"Change it."

"We both know it's not a good idea."

"Stay," he said softly.

She wavered.

"Please."

"Ron'll be back soon and I don't think he'd appreciate my staying."

"Ron?" asked Harry, sidetracked. He glanced over and his best friend's bed was, indeed, empty. "Where is he? Why isn't he here?"

"He's… distraught," she answered sadly. "Up at the pitch blowing off steam, I imagine."

Harry sighed. "He's never lost anyone, let alone _two_ people at once."

"Well, he's got you to help him through it. And Hermione; she adores him. All of the Weasleys, their love will get them past this nightmare. Percy's even here, actually. Begged for forgiveness, in fact, and has been nothing but devoted to everyone."

"Too bad his mother never got to see it," Harry said sardonically.

"Oh, _yes_, she did."

"What?" he stammered.

"You missed more than I realized," started Luci. "Well, after you left, Hermione told me that Molly had woken up and she had been talking to everyone for a good while, and Percy had apologized profusely and she forgave him. And soon after, she just closed her eyes, I guess. It was peaceful. She was happy."

Tears had formed in Harry's eyes, and his usual response would have been embarrassment, but he found that he didn't feel any. He knew that it wasn't only because of the darkness.

"Stay," he said again.

"Harry…" she said reproachfully, hesitating.

He figured that the simple truth would convince her. "I need you."

"Oi," she said in exasperation, as she crawled back onto the bed with him. He lifted the quilt to allow her beneath it. "You knew I couldn't resist _that_, didn't you?"

He chuckled, feigning innocence.

"Well, you still have to go to sleep."

"I'm not the least bit tired," he argued. "I feel like taking a lap around the pitch myself."

"Too bad," she said, pretending to reprimand him. "Why don't you tell me what happened in that house instead? The place was in _ruins_! And what'd you do to your beautiful arm?"

So Harry started from the beginning, and when he got to the bit about the Inferi, he felt Luci shudder against him. He was just recalling how he'd fallen into the cellar when Ron walked into the room, illuminating the space with the light from his wand.

Harry squinted against the brightness and Luci shot from the bed, as if she'd been guilty of something.

"Oh, sorry," Ron stuttered, and he went to close the door again.

"No, Ron, come back," called Harry through his laughter.

Ron poked his ginger hair through the doorway again. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"I was just leaving," said Luci abashedly.

"No, you weren't," countered Harry, and then he turned to Ron and continued, "We were just discussing my face off with Voldemort."

This seemed to evoke something in Ron, because he swiftly tore into the room and said, "Hey, you're alive! We thought you were a goner!"

Suddenly, he was shaking Harry's hand zealously. "I've gotta tell Hermione!"

"No, no," said Luci, on her way out of the room. "It can wait until morning. You boys go to sleep."

She shut the door behind her, but neither of the boys went to sleep. There was far too much to be said.

Harry began by throwing copious apologizes at Ron for the loss of his family members. Ron, in turn, brushed him off and told him that every newspaper in circulation was publishing the story of Harry's victory over the Dark Lord. He had never been so famous, Ron concluded. Harry thought that this was probably bad news and that he may be hearing from Rita Skeeter again soon.

They stayed up the rest of the night, Harry telling Ron all about Voldemort and the Inferi and Luci's plan to feed Wormtail to the Veil. She and Hermione hadn't conveyed this idea to Ron, apparently, because he was as shocked as Harry had been.

Though attentive to Harry's account, Ron was not his enthusiastic self. The distance in his eyes had now grown deeper still, and the tone of his voice was littered with sorrow. Harry longed to make it better, but he didn't know how that would be possible when he was harboring his own grief over the loss of Charlie and Mrs. Weasley.

Morning came quickly, and Harry felt well rested, despite being up half the night. He and Ron meandered downstairs, and when they entered the kitchen, they were greeted by a rush of people. Many sets of arms were thrown around Harry, and he managed to identify the twins and Mr. Weasley. Somewhere in the commotion, Ginny embraced him so tightly that, for a moment, he couldn't breathe.

"We thought you…" she muttered.

"I know. But I'm OK. Are you all right?"

She was crying and didn't look all right at all, but she nodded.

Hermione was next to hug Harry, scolding, "Harry James Potter! Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, do you hear me?"

He laughed.

Luci was standing in the back of the room with her mother, apparently preparing breakfast, and she gave him a significant smile. His heart soared in response.

Fleur was kissing his cheeks and mumbling something about scaring her half to death. Bill clapped him on the back heartily. And then there was Percy, who shook Harry's hand firmly and said, "Forgive me, Harry. I've been wrong."

Harry hesitated, but finally replied, "It's good to have you back."

"You too," said Percy, returning the smile that had come over Harry's face.

Everyone was thrilled to see Harry in good health once more, but it wasn't long before a cloud drifted into the room and stole the light from everyone's eyes again. The sense of loss was palpable, and Harry found that he could hardly stand it. He had a horrible feeling that none of the Weasleys would ever be the same.


	30. Chapter Thirty: The Exchange

**Chapter Thirty – The Exchange**

Luci had taken Harry up to see Wormtail right away, and they had been checking on him frequently ever since. She had him bound in a ridiculous variety of knotted ropes, so when he awoke from the Draught of Living Death, nearly two days later, they could hear him screaming all the way in the kitchen.

Harry, Hermione, and Luci dashed upstairs. They found Wormtail struggling, hissing frantically, having a go at the bindings. Luci immediately put him back to sleep.

"I thought he had to be awake?" asked Harry.

"When you get there, but I don't think he'd cooperate on the trip if he were awake for it. So, Hermione, a little rousing spell oughtta do the trick."

Hermione nodded. "We're going now then?"

She looked to Harry, and he considered the question.

Ron was in no mood to do a great deal of anything and spent most of his time soaring forlornly around the Quidditch pitch, which is where he could currently be found. He didn't eat or sleep much. The rest of the Weasleys had long since returned to their assorted places of residence, but Mr. Weasley had allowed Ron to stay with Harry, hoping that it would help with the grief. It wasn't helping, however, but perhaps the flying was. Harry couldn't tell.

Luci and her mother, who was staying in Malfoy's old room, had made all of their plans to return home the following day. Luci had been going over with Harry and Hermione the spells that they would need to swap Wormtail for Sirius, and they felt prepared, but he still wanted her there.

"If you'll come with us," Harry finally said in response to Hermione, but his eyes were on Luci's face.

Luci vacillated, giving him an exasperated glance.

"What if something goes wrong?" he proposed.

"I've told you everything that I know."

"But you're the most powerful of the three of us."

"Please!" she scoffed. "The Boy Who Lived, Defeated Voldemort, and Then Lived Some More? And Hermione, the smartest witch I've met since I got here? _I'm_ just the oldest!"

Hermione beamed, her cheeks flushing.

"I think you'll be fine," Luci concluded.

Harry stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. "What if I just need you to be there?"

She gazed up at him and smiled. "There you go again; you always know what to say to a girl."

"I'm rubbish with girls, actually."

"Rubbish," she replied simply.

"Hermione and I, we both have bad memories there too," he exhorted.

Luci looked to Hermione, who concurred, "It's a dreadful place."

"Does it really mean that much to you?" Luci asked Harry, tilting her head musingly.

He nodded.

She pressed her lips together and then sighed. "Well, who am I to be such a coward in the face of two brave souls such as yourselves?" She smiled. "Shall we go, then?"

"What about Ron?" queried Hermione. "He won't come with us. We can't just leave him."

"We won't be gone long," assured Luci. "And my mom'll be with him."

* * *

Not half an hour later, the three of them were trying to stuff themselves into the telephone box. Harry's arm was almost fully healed, thanks to a burn salve, and he was pushing Wormtail's unconscious body through the little door. His heart was pounding, nothing to do with the effort. This was the only chance that he'd have to get someone _back_, for once. The excitement was igniting his nerves, but it was mingled with a nibbling doubt.

"We'd better go in pairs," came Luci's voice, merging into his thoughts.

Wormtail was far too round for both Harry and Hermione to get into the booth along with Luci.

She turned and dialed the numbers, obviously remembering them from her first visit here, and smiled, "See you inside," as the door clanked shut.

"Hogwarts is reopening," said Hermione abruptly when the box had disappeared.

Harry glanced at her.

"All of the seventh year students can complete the term and then take our N.E.W.T.s, as if nothing had happened."

"As if nothing had _happened_?" snapped Harry in disbelief.

"Well, a _lot_ has happened, obviously," said Hermione mildly. "But only to us. The rest of the students have just had a very long holiday."

The telephone box reappeared and they climbed in. Harry punched the keypad and the woman's cool voice flooded his ears. They took their badges and the box began its journey downwards into the Ministry.

"You know, we never did hear anything else from Zacharias Smith," said Harry, desiring a change of topic. "Guess that whole thing with the Dementor shut him up."

"Oh!" piped Hermione. "While you and Ron weren't looking, I erased his memory. He doesn't know we broke in; he just knows we were there. He was so confused that I doubt he told anyone what happened."

"You're good to have around, Hermione," said Harry fondly.

"Lucky you," she answered with a grin. Then, "You know, it's curious."

"What?"

"There's this joy in your eyes that's never been there before, but I can still see a lot of sadness, as well."

Harry shrugged. "Voldemort is gone, Luci's moving here, we might get Sirius back. But I'm just having a hard time seeing anything as a victory. I'm not a hero. A lot of people are dead, because of me."

"No, a lot of people are _alive_ because of you, Harry," she said gently. "Some terrible things have happened, but you can't blame yourself. The Order existed long before we were even born, and it was created so that its members could _fight_. You couldn't have prevented any of those deaths."

"I guess." He couldn't keep the angst from his voice.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione cooed, throwing her arms around him. "It's all going to be all right now."

He embraced her but returned, "Ron is destroyed."

She pulled away and blinked at him. "He's… A _piece_ of him is destroyed, yes, but he'll come back to us. He has to… Right?"

The pain that was obvious in her expression put Harry's to shame, and he feigned assurance, saying, "Right. You're always right."

The telephone booth came to a halt, the doors clinking open.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

"Hi there," said Luci, who was levitating Wormtail effortlessly. "Lead the way, Harry."

Harry took them along the corridor of fireplaces, into the lifts. They traveled to the ninth floor, where the grills clanked apart, revealing that familiar black door. The three of them, escorting Wormtail, marched silently into the rotating room. After being shut in with the darkness, Harry demanded, "The room, please," just as Bellatrix and Luci had done, hoping that it would work.

Fortuitously, a door flew open and he led everyone through it. It was, indeed, the correct room, and they stepped down the stone benches towards the Veil.

As they drew nearer, Harry could hear the voices chasing each other around, indecipherable and otherworldly.

When they reached the bottom, Luci propped Wormtail against the wall. "Hermione, do you have that left-over asphodel?"

"Of course," answered Hermione, who handed Luci a dry, blackened leaf.

"What's that for again?" asked Harry.

"It'll make the transition between the worlds a little smoother, I think," responded Luci. She began to crush the leaf in her hand, and then she rubbed it on Wormtail's forehead.

Harry took the mirror from his pocket and called into it, "Sirius?"

"Harry! Thought you weren't coming back!"

"Don't be daft," said Harry cheerfully.

"Hermione? Did she find a way to get me out of here?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"She helped. But it was someone else, actually."

"Ron? He couldn't possibly have…"

Harry laughed. "No, not Ron." He glanced at Luci and they exchanged a smile.

"We'll get you out of there and I'll introduce you," Harry said to the mirror.

"Jolly good," replied Sirius. "I am _long_ past ready to get out of here."

"Just give us a few minutes," finished Harry, pocketing the mirror.

When he nodded towards her, Luci tapped Wormtail gently on the forehead. "_Evigilo_," brought him to his senses and he immediately began to writhe instinctively. Then he stopped, realizing that the ropes were no longer binding him.

"Where am I?" he managed, thick-tongued. Then, "Oh, no, not _you_!"

Luci smirked at him. "And you remember Harry and Hermione, I'm sure?"

Wormtail took one look at them, sucked in a stifled breath, and bolted for the benches.

"Not so fast," said Harry, who then employed the Leg-Locker Curse.

Wormtail snarled. "You tried to kill me and now you have some new sinister thing up your sleeve? What happened to your mercy, Potter?"

"Ran dry, I'm afraid," answered Harry.

Luci was now standing before the Veil, reading a small scrap of paper. Clearing her throat, she began, "We humbly request an audience in order to propose an exchange for one of your captives."

Then she glanced over at Harry and Hermione and added, "I feel silly."

They both gave her an encouraging nod.

"No, no, I will not be exchanged!" Wormtail was squeaking in fear. "You let me go! The Dark Lord will be furious!"

"The Dark Lord?" said Harry mockingly. "Haven't you heard?"

Wormtail ceased his squirming and replied suspiciously, "Heard _what_?"

Harry grinned. "Voldemort is dead. His killing curse backfired again, but I guess you missed it this time, yeah?"

Wormtail was frowning. "You _lie_, Potter," he hissed in a low voice.

Shrugging, Harry answered, "Well, it doesn't matter _now_, does it?"

Suddenly, to his right, the Veil released a gush of wind, and Luci stumbled backwards due to the force.

Harry intuitively darted towards her, but she held up a hand, saying, "No, that's _supposed_ to happen." She regained her composure and continued, "Bring Peter over here."

Harry tipped Wormtail onto the stiff heels of his feet, and he and Hermione dragged the heavy man back towards the stone dais. He was flailing his arms interminably and they both had to duck multiple times to miss the blows. One of them caught Hermione in the chest, knocking the breath out of her, but she heaved on. Wormtail ranted and raved about the wrath of the Dark Lord when he found out what they had done to him, and Harry could only simper.

They set him upright before the Veil, and Luci stepped in front of him, saying, "We offer the soul of Peter Pettigrew in exchange for the soul of Sirius Black."

Then she moved out of the way and gestured to Harry, who pushed Wormtail forcefully through the curtain. He was ousted over, shrieking, with his feet sticking out, due to his legs still being locked together. The three of them had to scoot him the remainder of the way through the Veil.

Another devouring blast of current, this time drawing inwards, and then the archway went still and silent. Harry had never seen it still _or_ silent, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

A long while passed, with all of them staring silently, expectantly, at the Veil.

"Shouldn't something have happened by now?" Hermione eventually asked in hushed tones.

"Yes," replied Luci softly.

Harry looked at her in panic. "What do you mean? He's not coming out?"

She shook her head. "Maybe I missed something."

Muttering to herself, she scanned the paper in her hand multiple times. "According to Craig's instructions, he should have emerged by now…"

Harry blinked at her.

"Try him in the mirror," she suggested.

He retrieved the small square and summoned, "Sirius."

There was no response. He repeated his godfather's name. The mirror was silent.

"Where _is_ he?" he asked Luci in fright. "Did something happen to him?"

"I… I wouldn't _think_ so…"

"You wouldn't _think_ so?"

Her expression was rueful and poignant. "I'm… so sorry, Harry. I can't think of any reason why Craig would lie to me…"

"He's a Death Eater!" spat Harry angrily. Then he swore and kicked the archway. Pain shot up through his foot and died away somewhere along his shin.

"Life will simultaneously surprise and disappoint you," Luci commented resentfully.

"Look at the pair of you!" exclaimed Hermione. "You're both so… emotional!"

"It didn't _work_, Hermione!" Harry retorted.

"Well," she began meekly, "there was always a chance of that, wasn't there?"

He growled in response.

"I mean, it was a long shot, wasn't it?" she continued.

"This is my fault," Luci cut in. "I should have never gotten your hopes up, Harry. It _was_ a long shot."

Shaking his head, he was at a loss for words and merely ran his fingers through his hair. His heart was like a stone, weighed down by disappointment.

Luci came to him and wrapped her arms around his torso. He surrendered to her and tugged her closer.

"I'm so sorry," she said again.

"You tried," he said softly. "What more can we do?"

"Wonderfluff!" exclaimed Hermione, out of the blue.

Harry frowned at her from over Luci's head. "_Huh_?"

"That stuff you told Ron and me about… the purifier!"

"What about it?"

"Maybe Wormtail's soul wasn't as tortured as Sirius's. But if we could get that Wonderfluff in there to him, maybe it would purify his soul and he could be released!"

Luci looked skeptical, and then pensive.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked her.

"Just mulling it over," she responded, "but this calls for more research, because I don't know how to get something in there to someone specific. And I'd be worried about the effects of something like that on someone's _soul_."

"Hermione does research for _fun_," he said, glancing at his friend.

"Well, it _was_ my idea," agreed Hermione.

Luci sighed. "Back to the drawing board, then."

* * *

It was Luci's last night at Grimmauld Place, and Harry was lying in his bed, wishing that they were together – here, there, in the drawing room; it didn't matter. She was going to leave him tomorrow, and though Ron and Hermione would still be in the house until Hogwarts reopened at the start of the next week, the two of them had each other, and he somehow sensed that Luci's absence would make him feel very alone.

Ron was still up at the pitch, and the room was dark and silent. He had been verbally upset that they had been unable to retrieve Sirius, but Harry could tell that Ron wasn't very interested in the events at all.

Harry's optimism was dwindling. There didn't seem to be a foolproof way to recover Sirius from the Veil. He wished that he hadn't gotten his hopes up, because the fresh disappointment was much worse than the aching loss to which he'd grown accustomed over the last few years.

All of the sudden, Harry heard a crash that seemed to come from downstairs, followed by a loud curse. He bolted upright. Throwing on his glasses, he seized his wand and headed out to the landing.

"_Lumos_," he said, and then, "Who's there?"

"It's me," called a familiar voice. "Bloody table, always hated that thing."

"_Sirius_?" asked Harry in incredulity.

_No, of course not, you dolt_, he told himself.

"Who else?" came Sirius's voice. Then he continued to swear at the furniture.

Harry stood frozen, his hands gripping the banister, his illuminated wand pressing into his right palm. _It couldn't possibly be…_ He was far too stunned to speak, far too elated to move, far too… far away!

Grasping his awareness again, he dashed down the staircase, shining his wand over the room. Finally, the light landed on _that_ face. It was no longer lined and tired; it was… _joyful_.

Harry managed a gagging sound, but that was all that he could force.

"No 'Welcome back, Sirius'?" his godfather asked with amusement.

Harry opened his mouth, but there were no words.

Sirius laughed and embraced him jovially. "It's good to see you too!"

"B-But _how_?" choked Harry, pulling away and looking up into Sirius's face. It was downright surreal, as if he were sleepwalking.

The man shrugged. "Just a little while ago, I flew right out of that bloody Veil. Danced around merrily for a bit and then rushed to this house, hoping I'd find you here. Do you know, our old friend, Peter Pettigrew, showed up? Oddest thing. Something about the Dark Lord being dead?"

Harry nodded.

"Now it's my turn to ask – _how_?"

"I have to sit down," muttered Harry, fumbling in the dim light of his wand. Finally, he just leaned precariously against a table.

"Did _you_ do it?" Sirius asked cautiously. "Kill Voldemort?"

"Sort of," said Harry. "It's a long story."

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and then slowly told Sirius about his battle with Voldemort. The entire time, he would repeatedly glance up at his godfather's face and think that he should probably pinch himself, because he was surely in some kind of dream.

Afterwards, Sirius was still for a long while, with Harry watching him fervently. If he took his eyes away, his father's best friend might disappear again…

Eventually, Sirius said lovingly, "James and Lily would be so proud of you, Harry."

Harry felt his throat closing up, the tears prickling at his eyes.

"_I'm_ very proud of you," continued Sirius.

Harry remained silent with emotion. It was suddenly too much to absorb.

"Well, then!" Sirius chimed hastily, altering the atmosphere, causing Harry to jolt. "It's just icing on the cake that your little friend managed to spring me from that Veil then, eh?"

"_Girl_friend," Harry corrected him.

"Sorry?"

"She's my girlfriend," he repeated.

Sirius halted, giving Harry a perplexed look. "How old are you now? Seventeen?"

Harry nodded.

Sirius frowned, and then shrugged. "Eh, seems about right. A girl from school then? A very bright one, no doubt."

Harry laughed. "Another long story," he began, and then he recounted how he'd met Luci and how she'd plotted to get Sirius out of the Veil of Voices. When he mentioned that she was Malfoy's sister, Sirius spat, "A _Malfoy_? You must be mad, Harry!" To which, Harry explained that Luci hadn't grown up with the Malfoys and, therefore, was remarkably different from them. Sirius finally sighed in defeat and commented, "You must really like this girl," and Harry answered, "You could say that."

The night accelerated from there, flying by as the two of them shared their tales of the last two years. Sirius hadn't been up to much, of course, but he described what it was like inside of the Veil, and he was thrilled to hear Harry's stories.

When Harry mentioned his mother and Snape, Sirius looked disgusted but entirely unsurprised, merely snarling, "Snivellus," in distaste. He seemed indifferent to learning of Snape's death. He was infinitely more outraged at Wormtail's plan to hold Lily prisoner under a love potion. In fact, he slammed his fist into a piece of furniture and went on a brief tirade about trust and how livid James would have been if he'd known. Harry sat silently through this and then continued on about the events of the year, going into detail about Bill's wedding and Hagrid's death and the fact that his two best friends were now dating. "Everyone grew up!" Sirius commented, evidently upset that he'd missed out on this.

Finally, they came to the subject of the Horcruxes. Sirius was visibly stunned but listened intently as Harry told him about the locket that his own brother had retrieved, and about the wings, the cup, and Nagini. "You've had _some_ year," he had breathed. Then Harry went on, regarding the battle that had taken place in the Ministry, just before they had initially contacted him in the Veil, and how so many people had died, including Mrs. Weasley. "What a terrible shame," Sirius had muttered sadly.

At this point, Harry had realized that Sirius had also missed the _previous_ year of his life, so he went on about the Half-Blood Prince and about everything he'd learned that year with Dumbledore. He told Sirius about briefly going out with Ginny and about Malfoy's plot to kill the Headmaster. And then he got to Dumbledore's death, whereupon Sirius gasped, "_Malfoy_ killed him?" Harry had shaken his head and explained fully, going into detail that made his blood feel cold, but he knew that it was important for Sirius to know. Afterwards, Harry felt exhausted just from the effort of recalling the events.

Eventually, stirring could be heard upstairs, and Harry jumped to his feet, chirping, "Come on; I'll introduce you!"

Once he and Sirius were on the second landing, Harry knocked firmly upon Luci's door. It swung open, and suddenly, Harry was jerked through the archway and thrown backwards.


	31. Chapter ThirtyOne: 24 Hours Found

**Chapter Thirty-One – Twenty-Four Hours Found**

Harry's body was pressed into the wall, and Luci was kissing him recklessly, so deeply that he thought his soul might be seeping out through his mouth.

When she backed away, Harry didn't dare open his eyes. Instead, he just gasped, "What was that for?"

Then he opened _one_ eye, because she hadn't said anything.

"Something to remember until I get back," she replied seductively, smiling up at him.

Harry's pulse was already racing, but at her tone, it somehow picked up pace. "It's going to be the longest two weeks of my life."

"Oh, I doubt that."

Harry laughed.

"What?" asked Luci in merriment.

He rapped on the wall behind him, and Sirius poked his head through the door.

"Sorry… uh… didn't want to follow you in… under the circumstances…"

Luci had gone crimson and, apparently, speechless.

Harry continued to laugh.

"This is Luci," he said to Sirius.

"Pleasure," his godfather said awkwardly as he came into the room. He gestured to his own chest and said, "Sirius Black," in introduction.

Luci nodded mutely. Then she unexpectedly threw herself at him, and he stiffened in alarm at her actions.

"_So_ good to meet you!" she chirped, pulling away. "But _how_? I thought it didn't work!"

"I thought you weren't a hugger?" accused Harry jokily.

"It's _Sirius_! We thought he was _dead_!"

Sirius looked as if he would rather _be_ dead.

"The exchange worked," said Harry. "The Veil just isn't very punctual."

"It was you," cut in Sirius without warning. "You got me out of that… that _place_."

Luci shook her head modestly.

"Yes, Harry told me everything that you did. I am in your debt."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she grinned. "It was all for Harry. Though I'm very glad that you did get out, for your own sake, as well. It really is _so_ wonderful to meet you!"

"What's all this racket so early in the morning?" came Luci's mother's voice.

The three of them turned to acknowledge her, and then Luci said, "This is my mom, Melissa Keegan. Mama, this is Sirius, the one I was telling you about, Harry's godfather."

Sirius slanted his head in a fashion almost resembling bafflement, and Melissa extended her hand to meet his. They shook, languorously, studying each other's faces.

"Very nice to meet you," said Melissa, her voice uncharacteristically reticent.

"Likewise," Sirius replied quietly.

"I'm on my way down to make some breakfast. Care to join me?"

Sirius stared at Melissa as if she'd invited him to snog her. Finally, he answered cautiously, "Love to," and he followed her out onto the landing.

"Did you _see_ that?" asked Luci, nudging Harry with her elbow.

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "Gross."

"_Really_ gross."

Downstairs in the kitchen, they were greeted by Hermione, who squealed uncontrollably the moment that she spotted Sirius. "Harry, you didn't tell me!"

"Oh, yeah," answered Harry wittily, "Hermione, Sirius is back."

"Funny," she retorted, then, "Oh, Sirius, I'm _so_ glad! Welcome back!"

She, too, hugged him, but this time, he just grinned and said, "Why, thank you, Hermione!"

She shrieked happily. "Oh, I'm gonna go get Ron!"

Harry nodded his approval and plopped gleefully down onto the bench, followed shortly by Sirius, who draped an arm around his shoulders.

"You know, it really _is_ good to be back. You've all spiffed this place up quite nicely!"

Luci was already helping her mother with food preparation, and Harry knew that they weren't employing magic. He watched her silvery hair fall into her face as she concentrated on slicing a large melon, and his hands ached to tuck the strands dotingly behind her ear. She must have felt his eyes upon her, because she glimpsed up and beamed at him.

"Where's Kreacher?" Sirius asked Harry. "Your girlfriend and her mother shouldn't have to make breakfast!"

"Oh, we don't mind," answered Luci. "We do a lot of things the Muggle way."

"Unnecessary," said Sirius, as if the idea of this made him ill.

"Not for me, as I am one," added Melissa, and Sirius gawked. "But we love to cook."

"Kreacher's at Hogwarts," Harry chimed in, "but I'm sure you can call him back, now that he's yours again."

"Better around here without him," Sirius disagreed. "Grumpy little bugger. Come to think of it, I was pondering, and I'm convinced that everything transferred to you because I _was_ actually gone from this world, after all."

"Logical," concurred Harry.

"Turn around," said Luci, out of the blue, nodding towards the doorway.

Lupin and Tonks stood side by side, their mouths agape. Mad-Eye Moody was directly behind them, barking about the pair of them blocking the path into the kitchen.

Sirius shot to his feet and dashed over to Lupin. Neither of them said anything, but they embraced warmly. Finally, they broke apart and Tonks said, "I… I don't understand!"

Moody was seating himself at the table by now, seemingly unconcerned about Sirius's return. "Sounds like the kids figured out that Veil. Question is – who told them?"

"Being part of a really evil family can come in handy," answered Luci, and she smiled rebelliously at him.

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that," sighed her mother.

"You did this?" Tonks asked Luci, who shrugged.

"You guys kept asking me what I wanted with Peter. We traded him for Sirius."

Lupin, who was now sitting on Sirius's other side at the table, choked, "But… _how_?"

"Everyone keeps asking that," said Harry casually.

Ron and Hermione burst into the room just then, and Ron rushed wordlessly over to Sirius. He seized his hand, shaking it, bumping Harry's shoulder forcefully. But Harry didn't mind.

"Ron, so sorry to hear about your mum and brother," said Sirius genially.

Ron briefly cast his eyes downwards, but then he smiled slightly and replied, "Glad you're back."

"Me too!"

"So… so the plan? It worked?"

"It would appear so," grumbled Mad-Eye Moody. His voice sounded agitated, but the Auror's eyes were twinkling merrily.

Sirius grinned. "Harry was just about to explain my reappearance. Harry?"

"Oh, all right," he sighed. Melissa was passing food around the table, but everyone was staring at _him_. So he began again, despite the fact that he was entirely sick of recounting his adventures.

He was just getting to the bit where Hermione had suggested the Wonderfluff (and, at this, Tonks grinned proudly), when Melissa cut in, "Sorry to interrupt, but Luci, we have to go. The plane'll be taking off soon and we still need to stop by and see your brother. Why don't you go upstairs and get your things?"

Luci glanced miserably at Harry and then got to her feet.

"Be down in a minute," she said to her mother, and then to Harry, "Keep going," in regards to the story. Then she left the room.

"Well, go after her, Harry," said Sirius, gesturing towards the door. "She'll need a proper good-bye."

"Right," stammered Harry, who rose, blushing, and hurried from the room.

He found her flipping the locks closed on her trunk.

"Need any help?"

Straightening up and facing him, she pouted, "I don't wanna go."

He closed the space between them, taking her into his arms. They stood there in silence for a few minutes. He breathed her in, trying to memorize how she felt against him, telling himself that he could live two weeks without this electricity shooting through his body. But he didn't really believe it.

Eventually, he said, half-teasing, "You told me your whole life was there, so don't change your mind about coming back, OK?"

Luci pulled away, only slightly, only enough to look up into his eyes. "I won't. Things have changed."

"But you're giving up your home and your friends and–"

She didn't hesitate. "I know. But I've thought a _lot_ about this. I've never felt about _anyone_ the way that I feel about _you_. And moving across an ocean is a small price to pay. For what we have. And after what happened with my father, I need to be near Draco too."

"No talk of Draco right now," Harry sighed, feeling the romantic moment slip away.

"Hey, you called him by his first name!"

"Yeah, don't get used to it."

"Ah, progress," she replied sweetly.

Harry lifted his hand to her neck, tangling his fingers in her fragile, silky hair. "I'm really gonna miss you."

Then he brought his lips to hers, and her own hands pressed against his chest. His mind went sort of blank and time became strangely suspended. Stripped of his senses, he only knew that he was melting in their heat. He only knew that he loved her, and that his future, _their_ future, was very bright.

Finally, and with great difficulty, he broke the kiss, and she panted, "Me too."

He grinned. Their faces were still merely inches apart and he breathed, "When will I see you again? I'll be at Hogwarts when you get back."

"I can send an owl, if you like."

"Yes, but I want to _see_ you."

"I guess you can't leave school once you're there?" she asked.

"Not easily."

"Hmm," she said. "Well, I'll just have to come to you then. Do you still have the Pass?"

"Hermione has it," he answered distractedly, trying to keep himself from slamming her bedroom door shut, keeping her captive, and then kissing her for the rest of the day.

Luci must have perceived his intentions, because she stepped away from him, leaving the air around him cold. "I'll get it from her, and then I'll come straight to Hogwarts when I get back. Will that work?"

He nodded.

"Oh, _god_," she said suddenly, frowning.

"What?"

"I just realized that I'm going to be stuck in the Manor all alone with _Cissy_."

Harry laughed.

"It's not funny! The woman is… _dire_." Luci creased up her nose in aversion.

"Hey, I offered to let you stay here," he said, "and it still stands."

"Alone with Sirius? That's even weirder."

He shrugged. "My only other idea is Hogwarts. Come and stay there."

"Oh," she grinned, "and do _what_, exactly? An unlicensed Auror just wandering the halls all day and then sneaking up to her boyfriend's dorm at night and pouncing on him? I don't think we'd get away with it."

He beamed at this, his heart skipping happily in his chest. "As much as I'd love that…"

"Luci!" came a shout from downstairs.

She closed her eyes for a moment and clenched her jaw. Then she said, "I have to go."

"Yeah," he answered sullenly.

"Coming!" she yelled in response to her mother, and then she pulled Harry against her again, standing on her toes and pecking his lips lightly.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," she said in a weak, dismal tone.

"OK," he replied softly.

"Help me with my stuff?"

He nodded and turned to levitate her trunk. Then he followed her silently from the room and down the stairs.

The next few minutes went by in a bit of a blur. Luci and her mother said their goodbyes, and Hermione even hugged Luci after giving her the Pass, and then they were walking out the front door.

"Wait!" Harry called suddenly, tailing after them.

"What is it?" asked Luci in alarm, stopping abruptly.

"Nothing. I mean... I don't…"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I love you, you know."

She smiled, her eyes shimmering. "I love you back."

_That_ had been what he'd needed to hear, even if he hadn't known it. His shoulders relaxed, slumping.

Harry didn't even care that Melissa was listening, but she did fracture the moment between them when she called, "Hop, hop, plane to catch!"

* * *

It was the afternoon prior to the day that the three of them were to leave for Hogwarts, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were up at the pitch. Ron was slowly coming round to display pieces of his former self again and had just made a crack about Harry's uncanny ability to date girls of all hair colors.

"Watch out," joked Harry. "Brown is next!"

Hermione was reading below and couldn't hear them, but Ron replied, "Don't even think about it."

"Harry!" a shout cut in. "There's someone to see you downstairs."

Harry looked down to see Sirius and frowned. "Who?"

"And old friend. Come and see," called his godfather mysteriously.

Only minutes later, in the basement kitchen, Harry discovered a lanky man donning a hooded cloak, his face obstructed from view. A looming sensation instantly presented itself in Harry's mind, and he coiled his fingers around his wand.

"No need for that, Harry," came an oddly familiar voice, but Harry couldn't place it.

The man slid back his covering, revealing an excess of long gray hair, which weaved itself into an equally gray beard. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up onto his nose.

Harry gawked. It was the man who tended bar at the Hog's Head pub. Harry still thought that he recognized him from somewhere else too, though.

"Can I… can I help you with something?" Harry asked him apprehensively.

"Certainly not!" said the man. "It is _I_ who have come to help _you_!"

Shaking his head, Harry fumbled, "How could _you_ help _me_?"

"I have some information, and some valuable items, to pass on to you now that the Dark Lord has been vanquished."

The bar man reached into his robes, and Harry positioned his wand vigilantly. But the only thing that he had removed was a small, olive-colored satchel. Harry lowered his hand.

"Not too trusting, I see?" said the man.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"To be expected of you."

"What's in the bag?" queried Harry, tilting his head towards it.

The tall man gestured to the kitchen table. "Sit down; take a look."

At Harry's hesitation, he added, "Bag don't bite. And I don't bite people. Perfectly harmless, both of us."

Harry raised his eyebrows, but he strode to the table and took a seat on the bench. He reached for the sack, untied the small knot at its mouth, and cautiously dumped its contents onto the surface before him. There was a folded piece of parchment, a plain black box, a pendant, and a brooch of some kind.

Harry's hand went for the latter of these, and he recognized it as a Head Girl badge from Hogwarts, though it looked somewhat different from the one that Hermione wore. This one was very tarnished and read "Lily Evans." Harry dropped it noisily onto the table and looked up.

"Where did you get this?" he snarled at the visitor, who had seated himself transversely from Harry.

A slight, crooked smile played on the man's lips. "This is only the beginning."

"I'm sorry?" asked Harry, becoming angered by his own incomprehension, as well as the man's ambiguity.

"Go on," he answered, motioning to the items between them.

Harry stared fixedly at the bar man for a moment, and then he picked up the locket. It was silver, heart-shaped. He had to dig his fingernail into the metal to pry it open, but it was worth the effort, for the necklace unveiled a photograph of his parents. It was miniscule, in order to fit into the tiny frame, but he could see them waving in a lively manner. They looked so… _happy_. A bolt of pain shot through Harry's heart, and he slammed the pendant shut, in an attempt to avoid palpable emotion.

The little black box was constructed of cardboard, and the once-square edges were worn down and white, where the dark paint had rubbed from the paper. He popped off the lid and peered inside. It was a dainty gold band that held a small round-cut diamond. He frowned at it, and then sat it aside, going for the parchment. When he grasped it, it splintered in his hand, due to its staleness. He tried to be gentle when unfolding it, and it, in turn, revealed to him his own name and birth date. It was his birth certificate.

He creased it into its original form again and returned it gingerly to the table. Trying to keep his voice even, he demanded again, "Where did you get these?"

"The ring, it was your mother's engagement band," the man replied instead.

Harry slammed his fist onto the table. "_Why do you have my parents' things?_" he seethed.

"Sherbet lemon?" he inquired, pulling a handful of sweets from his pocket. They were covered in lint, but he tossed one into his mouth anyhow, and then reached out his palm, offering them to Harry.

Harry responded furiously, "_No_. Explain yourself, or there are Aurors in this house who would be happy to get it out of you."

The man tittered, and Harry noticed indignation rising in his own chest.

"Aurors?" he said mockingly. "From the Order, I presume?"

Harry's mouth fell open. "How do you…?"

"Why, I'm a _member_, of course! Aberforth Dumbledore. How do you do? Sherbet lemon?"

"You– you're…"

"Aberforth Dumbledore, that's right. Necessary to get your attention before unmasking myself. Amusing little game. Had another ring too, actually, a rather fancy one, but it was taken from me by a dodgy little man called Mundungus."

"Know him, unfortunately," grumbled Harry, calming slightly, now that he was sure of the man's identity.

"Any-owl," said Aberforth, "where was I?"

"About to tell me why you've got my parents' things," prodded Harry.

"Ah, yes! Many, many years ago, the Dark Lord made an attempt on your life."

"I know all of that," Harry spat impatiently.

"Of course, you don't!" countered Aberforth with a chuckle, and though Harry opened his mouth to speak, the man went on. "An enormous bloke called Hagrid was sent to retrieve you and to search the house for anything valuable, sentimental, that sort of thing. Make sure the Death Eaters took nothing important. These are the items that he recovered."

"My dad's Cloak?" asked Harry. "Was it found there too?"

"Heavens, no!" the man replied. "Your father left _that_ with the Order before he went into hiding, for our use as it was needed. After the war was over, though, it was kept safe for you. And all of these things – they've been kept for you, as well, to be given to you along with the truth."

"Wh-what truth?"

"Truth is only your perception of it, though, as I'm sure you'd agree."

"Huh?"

"That scar."

Harry swept his hair over his forehead to cover it.

"Yes, that's the one. That scar – where do you think it came from?"

Harry frowned. "From Voldemort trying to kill me."

"But the killing curse leaves no mark. What do you make of this?"

"I- I was a special case! Everyone knows that!"

"Ah, you _were_, but not in the way that you think," burred Aberforth.

"Would you just… spit it out!" Harry fumed.

"As volatile as they say," the man merely commented.

Harry hissed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his temper.

"That fateful night," continued Aberforth, "the Dark Lord was intending to fashion a _vile_ creation with your death – a Horcrux – and was fully prepared to do so, had taken all the necessary steps and what have you. However, when his attempt to kill you backfired, he inadvertently– You do know of Horcruxes, yes?"

Harry nodded hastily, hungry for the rest.

"Inadvertently, the Horcrux was generated, but the Dark Lord himself was sent into a shadow world."

"Which Horcrux?" Harry asked, wondering which of the items could have possibly been inside of his parents' cottage at Godric's Hollow. "They're all destroyed now."

"When news spread and the Order finally reached you–"

"Did it really take them an entire day to find me?" Harry interrupted. "I wasn't taken to the Dursleys' until the following night."

The gray-haired man frowned, probably at Harry's discourtesy. "Of course it didn't take us a day! What do you think we are? Incompetent? Listen, listen. Your answers are unfolding."

Harry sighed and nodded for Aberforth to continue.

"When we sensed what had happened, you were taken immediately to my dear, departed brother, Albus, the only person who might possibly know what to do."

"What to do about _what_?"

"It was something no one had ever seen before – a human Horcrux – and it was–"

Harry sputtered in confusion, but the man did not halt.

"–difficult for my brother to decide what was to be done. Eventually, it was agreed upon that the Horcrux _must_ be removed from you. Not an easy process, certainly not a _speedy_ process, and it couldn't be done without, regrettably, leaving a pretty nasty scar."


	32. Chapter 32: The Headmaster's Sacrifice

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The Headmaster's Sacrifice**

Harry gawked at the bizarre man before him, his eyes wide, his throat dry and tight. He perfunctorily reached up and touched his forehead. He felt woozy. He'd misheard, of course. Except that the bar man's next words told him otherwise.

"Of course, Albus wasn't even fully certain that he'd succeeded at removing the soul from you until he received news that the Dark Lord was able to fully return, using your blood. Would have never worked, had it not been taken out all those years prior."

Harry glanced up, questioning with his eyes, for his voice was nowhere to be found.

"He needed the blood of the one who had originally defeated him, and if his Horcrux had still been lurking in there-" He motioned towards Harry's chest and then finished, "-your blood would not have been entirely your own."

Harry recalled the triumphant dance of Dumbledore's eyes when he had been told about the events in the graveyard. "It…? I…?" He coughed, choking on his parched tongue.

Aberforth watched him in interest for a moment, and then removed a dirty scrap of paper from his cloak. "What else, what else…?" he muttered to himself. Then, "Ah, yes! So, in conclusion, this is why many of the Dark Lord's own skills were transferred to you. Very dangerous gifts. But, of course, they were probably the very reason that only _you_ were able to defeat him." The man broke off and studied Harry for a moment. "How _did_ you do it, anyway?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He felt contaminated and… _abominable_. A piece of Voldemort's soul had been floating around inside of him. He clutched at his stomach, thinking he might be sick.

"Merlin's beard, boy! All right there?"

"So the… the scar… it's from the Horcrux being _removed_? _Not_ from the curse?" Harry envisioned the deep crack in Gryffindor's ring, the way that the locket had shattered, the split in Hufflepuff's cup…

"Spot on!" chimed Aberforth brightly. "Remarkable, isn't it?"

"Why didn't anyone tell me this before now?" asked Harry, and though his insides were roaring, his voice emerged pathetic and quiet.

"It was thought that the information might impair your judgment."

There was steam coming out of his ears; he just knew it. "No one tells me my _own_ bloody secrets!"

"Don't berate the messenger," responded the man tranquilly.

"So why tell me now?" he wanted to know.

Aberforth shrugged. "My brother – Albus, you know – intended to tell you these things, in whatever time table he had chosen, but with his unfortunate death, he passed the duty on to me. Had to make notes, remember everything he wanted me to say and whatnot." He waved the scrap of parchment.

"What else is there?" came Harry's weary reaction.

"I think we've hit all the key points," said the man, running a finger down the list. "Yes, yes, that should do it."

Harry let his head fall dejectedly into his arms, which he'd crossed upon the table.

"I'll leave them with you. The notes."

Harry didn't respond.

"You need appeasing. I'll fetch someone."

At this, Aberforth was gone.

There were so many thoughts scampering through Harry's mind that he was unable to hold onto any single one of them. His stomach gurgled in revulsion. His head undulated. Nothing was clear. Except that he had turned out to be more ill-fated than he'd ever known.

* * *

Just over a week had passed since Harry's visit from Professor Dumbledore's peculiar brother. Sirius, Ron, and Hermione had all been stunned by the revelation of the true origin of Harry's scar. That is, when he'd finally managed to tell them, many hours after the bar man had departed from Grimmauld Place. Now, though, it was starting to sink in.

There had been a ceremony held for Charlie and Mrs. Weasley before they all had been sent back to Hogwarts. It had been nothing short of emotional torture. Harry had spent the entire service with thoughts of sorrow and overwhelming guilt chasing each other around in his mind. The eulogy had been touching, but there were many things that didn't get said.

Days later, and Ron was still withdrawn. Harry had become quite preoccupied himself. Hermione had gotten fed up with both of them and spent her time revising in the library. Getting back into a rhythm at Hogwarts had come very easily to all of the returning students. A festive mood wafted through the hallways, and voices rang out clear with sounds of triumph. But Harry was hounded wherever he went. People wanted pictures and autographs, so Harry had taken to wearing the Invisibility Cloak for privacy. A more impressive hero had never been seen in the history of the school, Professor Flitwick had told him on their first day back. Harry had merely sighed in reply.

He sighed aloud now, as well. He had been nauseous ever since he'd found out about his scar, and nothing, so far, had been able to relieve it. He put a hand to his stomach as the twisting staircase elevated him.

He'd been using the phoenix key to enter the Headmistress's office every single day, hoping to catch Professor Dumbledore in his frame. Up to this point, he had been unsuccessful. However, on this day, when he opened the heavy, oak door, a jovial voice welcomed him.

"Ah, _here's_ our hero!"

"You know I hate that word."

"Yes, I do," smiled the portrait. "That does not make it any less appropriate, however."

"You've been kept informed then?" asked Harry, seating himself in the chair opposite the large desk.

"Indeed. Congratulations are in order, I believe."

Harry shrugged resentfully.

Dumbledore clicked his tongue in disapproval and said, "What seems to be the problem, Harry?"

He glanced up. "Why did you send your brother to unload all of that stuff on me? It was… horrible."

"Ah, Aberforth was never very tactful…"

"Why didn't _you_ do it?"

"I thought, conceivably, that an impartial party delivering the information might make it a bit less… taxing."

"Well, it _didn't_!" grumbled Harry.

"Perhaps it gave you some time to ponder things, to decide which questions needed to be asked of me?" suggested the portrait.

He considered this. Dumbledore was eerily perceptive, as always. There _was_ a long list of questions bouncing about in Harry's brain. And a long list of things to tell the portrait, as well.

"We got Sirius back," he said with a grin.

"_Did_ you?" asked Dumbledore, and then thoughtfully, "A Timeturner?"

Harry shook his head.

"An Impetro charm?"

"A _what_?"

"Ah, must have been an exchange then."

"Yes," confirmed Harry. "We traded Wormtail."

"Oh, dear, such a shame," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

Harry choked, "A _shame_?"

"That silver hand could have proven to be very valuable. And Miss Granger - she was able to obtain the information regarding such dark magic?"

"Luci," Harry corrected him.

"She was always a resourceful girl… And how _is_ Luci? I understand that she'll be relocating to our lovely country. Something to do with you, I presume?"

"She _does_ have a brother here, as well, you know," disputed Harry.

The portrait gave him a knowing smile.

"Yes," he admitted, his face flushing.

Dumbledore chuckled. "And a very nice pairing indeed."

"Not many would agree," Harry groused.

"Ah, well, love conquers most everything, as you've undoubtedly discovered in your recent experience with Lord Voldemort."

"The odds of it happening twice…" began Harry uncertainly. "He tried to kill me again, and it backfired, _again_, I guess, because he died and I didn't. He kept saying, 'Her eyes,' and it felt like… like… Well, it bloody _hurt_."

"Your mother's eyes," nodded Dumbledore.

"Did he… _see_ her or something?"

"The Horcrux that was removed from you, it was created with your mother's murder. That piece of soul had as much of _her_ in it as it did Voldemort."

Suddenly, the unclean sensation that Harry had been carrying around these last few days lifted briefly. The soul had partly been his mother's… He smiled softly at the thought.

"Just as you received qualities from Voldemort – the ability to speak Parseltongue, the curse of seeing into his mind – so did you receive qualities from your mother – the selflessness to sacrifice yourself for those you love, and those altruistic eyes."

"Sir, if you knew, all those years ago, that Voldemort was making Horcruxes, why didn't you start looking for them then?"

"Last year, I informed you that no wizard had ever split his soul into more than two parts. Until you brought me Riddle's diary, I assumed the same of Lord Voldemort. He had attempted it once, with you, and I had believed that that had been the end of it. I was confounded when it came to my attention that he'd split his soul many more times, that he'd claimed to have gone further than anyone ever had towards immortality. That's when I realized that there must be many more Horcruxes, and that we had to find them all, to destroy them all. I hinted at Nagini because, due to my experience with you, I knew that a Horcrux could be housed within a living being. A lucky guess, perhaps."

"More than _lucky_," nodded Harry. "Why didn't you tell me from the beginning about my scar? And if you say 'for your own good,' I'm walking out of the room."

Dumbledore's mouth curled slightly, and he seemed to be thinking up a better answer for Harry's question. At last, he replied, "It is very traumatizing to hear that one's body has been occupied by their greatest enemy. I debated giving you this information in your fifth year, when you began to experience Lord Voldemort's consciousness. However, I talked myself out of it, fearing that the knowledge would make you forget who you are. You were already terrified that your anger and your sinister visions were turning you towards the darker side of magic. I knew that this was not true, of course, but did not want to give you any more reason to doubt your magnificent strengths, your capacity to love, your ability to make the right decisions. I believe that _not_ telling you was essential to your defeating Voldemort. Also, at the time, there was still quite a bit that I didn't know about the remaining Horcruxes, and I wanted to present a comprehensive outline for you. This is what I did in your sixth year, but for the same reasons, I refrained from telling you about your scar."

Harry had been listening attentively, but now he sighed and complained, "So, basically, you're saying you did it for my own good?"

"Precisely," said the portrait.

He probably should have been angry, but Harry only felt tired and drained. Questions continued to jab at the walls of his mind, however, so he said, "I still don't understand why you let Snape kill you."

"Did Severus tell you that?"

"Luci did. You sacrificed your life to protect _Malfoy_? Why?"

"I sacrificed my life to protect _you_," countered Dumbledore.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Not that I didn't do it partially for Draco," the portrait went on, "for his life _is_ valuable, but there was a far greater purpose. It was imperative to guard Severus Snape's reputation as a Death Eater. By no other means could we ever hope to overpower Lord Voldemort. Keeping Severus inside of the Dark Lord's circle could very well guarantee your victory. I sacrificed my life so that you would have a better chance at conquering Lord Voldemort and keeping the Wizarding world safe."

"You had to _die_ in order to accomplish that?"

"It was the most difficult decision that I had ever made, and this is quite a statement, when one considers these things. You were very dear to me, Harry, and I am unashamed to say that I loved you very much. I assumed that my death would hurt you deeply, but I knew that it would also fuel your hatred for Professor Snape, which would contribute greatly to your success. It was necessary to ensure his cover as a Death Eater."

Tears stung at Harry's eyes, and there were many things that he wanted to say. But instead, he just croaked, "It seems like there could have been a better solution, Professor."

"You doubted me greatly, I see."

"No," seethed Harry, "I trusted you _completely_ and you abandoned me!"

Dumbledore hung his head. "It is one of my few regrets – leaving you alone and broken. But I do believe that it was the correct choice."

Harry growled and sucked in a frustrated breath. "But you could have so easily defeated Snape, while still protecting his cover."

"Had I done that, Draco would have made an attempt on my life, and I did not want that to transpire. The boy has been raised by a heartless man, a man who injected him with his own values. However, I do not believe that Draco is like his father. He is not a Death Eater. He is merely confused and weak. It was important to protect him from stepping into a future that he was not choosing for himself."

"Malfoy is as heartless and evil as his father! He's done… _terrible_ things!"

"Try to understand, Harry," the portrait carried on, "that Draco does not know who he is. Unlike you, he was given great attention, groomed to follow in his family's traditions, never allowed to make his own decisions. He became a bully, a cruel person who took his pain out on others. You have always had a strong sense of self, Harry, but those who lack this are easily coerced into becoming people that they are not."

Harry clenched his jaw. "You were always too trusting, too forgiving, always seeing good in people when there wasn't any." After emitting the words, he realized that his mother had been the same way with Snape. Then it hit him that this was also one of Luci's irritating traits.

Dumbledore tilted his head in a questioning fashion, because Harry's tone hadn't been accusatory.

"But you were right about Snape, sir. I could have never defeated Voldemort without him." His pride on the cutting room floor, Harry averted his eyes. "And… it's… _possible_ that you're right about Malfoy too."

"I appreciate your renewed faith in my judgment," said the portrait. "Though I doubt it is entirely my doing."

"Luci's the same way. She sees both sides to everything, gives people the benefit of a doubt. It's gotten her into trouble, and it's gotten _you_ into trouble, but I have to admire a quality that I don't have, I guess."

"And she admires you greatly, as well."

Harry's eyes darted up in surprise.

"The most unusual visits I've had from her," continued Dumbledore. "She is not the same girl who came here against her will all those months ago. And you are not the same boy either."

Harry shrugged.

"An uncomfortable subject, perhaps?"

"No, just a new one."

The portrait smiled in understanding. "Anything else on your mind, Harry?"

Harry reflected upon the last year for a few moments. Finally, he asked, "My Aunt Petunia – is she a witch?"

"Ah, Petunia. Desperately wanted to be one, but alas. She spent her life supremely jealous of your mother, wanting nothing more than to possess magical powers of her own, wondering why Lily was chosen and she was not." He paused. "Eventually, she came to the conclusion that it was better to ignore magic altogether, to push it from her mind, to pretend that it did not exist at all. She became bitter and disillusioned. But I believe, Harry, that she loves her sister's son; it is simply that you remind her of what she can never be, so she treats you with cruelty in order to protect herself."

"Is that really an excuse?" said Harry acerbically.

"Surely not!" the portrait exclaimed. "It is merely an explanation. Just as there is no excuse for the way that you have been treated by Severus and Draco, there is no excuse for the way that you have been treated by the Dursleys. _But_, there is always an _explanation_. When you regard the perspectives of others, you will understand those people, and in turn, you will understand yourself more deeply, as well. None of us is identical, and that makes for an exhilarating adventure alongside your fellow man, or woman, if you like."

Harry nodded in consensus.

"Well, I do believe that you are missing your Transfiguration class, Harry."

"This was more important."

"Unquestionably, but I _would_ like to see you pass your N.E.W.T.s when the term has expired. Are you still considering further study in order to become an Auror?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"And Mr. Weasley? Miss Granger? What plans have they?"

"Ron wants to be an Auror too. Not sure about Hermione. Do they have professional book readers?" asked Harry wittily.

The portrait chuckled. "You are fortunate to have rescued her from that troll, thereby winning her friendship."

"Don't I know it!" Harry agreed.

"Please give them my salutations, and not too long between visits, I hope?"

Harry got to his feet. "I'll come again soon."

"Splendid! Good day, Harry."

"Good day, sir."


	33. Chapter ThirtyThree: Visible Memories

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Visible Memories**

The next afternoon, Harry and Ron were seated on either side of Hermione, and they were both pretending to revise. The library was full of other seventh years, who were also preparing for their N.E.W.T.s. Harry was staring at Potions ingredients that swirled before his eyes, his thoughts drifting to Sirius, and what he might be doing, now that he could enjoy his freedom.

"Hi there."

Harry's heart flipped over in his chest at the words, and he looked up to see Luci standing directly before him.

"I hoped I'd find you here," she smiled.

He catapulted from his seat, knocking a book to the floor, much to Hermione's disgruntlement.

"You're early!" he exclaimed as he rushed to the other side of the table.

She threw her arms around him and chirped, "Couldn't stay away."

He kissed her, and those delightful sparks began to nip at every nerve in his body. Her mouth was soft and warm, and it felt like home…

A teasing whoop came from somewhere in the room.

And then Harry remembered, and he stepped away.

"What's wrong?" Luci asked immediately, in tones of slight panic.

"What's wrong is you lot snogging in public places," muttered Ron.

Hermione hissed, "Ronald!"

His eyes still on Luci's, Harry said, "There's something I need to tell you."

She furrowed her brow. "I'm listening."

"We should sit down," he suggested.

The two of them joined Ron and Hermione at the table, and Luci asked, "How are you guys?"

"Eh," spat Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "Don't mind him. Things are getting better."

Ron glared but made no effort to contradict her.

To avoid any further argument, Harry turned to Luci and diverted, "After you left, I had a… visitor."

She nodded for him to go on.

"Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, evidently," he said. "He came to Grimmauld Place to give me some of my parents' things. But it wasn't his real reason for showing up. He told me–" He broke off and took a breath. "Luci, this is going to change everything."

Luci had been listening intently, and now, she was frowning.

"Harry, just tell her," sighed Hermione. "It won't change anything, I promise."

"My scar," he went on. "It's not because Voldemort tried to kill me. It's because he accidently made me into a Horcrux."

Luci made a small noise of surprise, but Harry kept on.

"Dumbledore took it out, the piece of his soul. The night my parents died. But… that's why he could see into my head, why I can speak Parseltongue, why I defeated him. He had meant to kill me and use that murder to create a Horcrux, but something happened, and instead, my mother's murder sent the piece of his soul into me. And they got it out, but… but it's bloody sickening. I'm sorry."

She shifted in her seat, baffled. "Well, that explains the scar. But it doesn't change anything, does it?"

Tilting her chin, Hermione agreed, "She's kind of right, actually."

Harry shook his head in bemusement. "But I'm… I'm…"

"What? _Broken_?" prompted Luci.

"Yes," he moaned, "and… disgusting and tainted…"

She was raising an eyebrow at him. "Harry, it doesn't change who you are and it doesn't change the past. I understand why it bothers you, but you're acting like one simple new truth has turned the world on its axis."

"She's got a point," said Hermione. "You're free and unburdened now!"

"Don't you two get it?" barked Ron. "He feels _dirty_ and _that's_ the problem."

Harry glanced at Ron in astonishment but then concurred, "That's _exactly_ the problem."

Luci reached for his hand under the table, and he could feel heat radiating between them. They really hadn't had a suitable greeting.

"Listen, you were thrown into a fate that wasn't of your choosing. And awful things have happened to you. To all three of you. But you can't stew over what can't be changed. You have to go forward." She squeezed his fingers. "_We_ have to go forward."

"You really aren't… _revolted_ by me?"

She laughed. "I could never be revolted by you! You're my heart." She stopped and glanced at Ron and Hermione, mumbling an embarrassed, "Sorry."

Ron looked perfectly revolted enough for all of them, but Hermione smiled and piped, "Ron, we should let them be alone."

"Actually," began Luci, "I have some… well, _bad_ news of my own. More upsetting than bad, I guess."

The three of them looked expectantly at her.

"I can't stay at Malfoy Manor, so I'm getting an apartment."

"That's _good_ news," said Hermione questioningly.

"Well, you haven't heard my reason… Um." She pressed her lips together. "Draco told me that Narcissa set us up. At the Ministry. When my father got out of Azkaban, the two of them rallied together, tried to get back into Voldemort's favor. She staged Draco's kidnapping – Draco had nothing to do with it – and told Voldemort that you'd come for him, Harry, because you cared about _me_. Nothing got past her, apparently. So. Of course, the point of it all is that it was my fault. I should have known that it was a trap. So, because of me, Ron, you've lost your mother and your brother and I will live with that guilt for the rest of my life. I'd do anything to take it ba–"

"Luci, stop." Ron had tears in his eyes, but he was staring firmly at her. "Everyone in my family… they're fighters, and they were going to end up in a battle with Voldemort no matter what. We all were. So don't be so arrogant as to think you had that much influence."

Her eyes darkened, wounded. "Right… Right. Of course not."

"Ron!" Harry and Hermione said in unison.

"What? I'm trying to make her feel better."

"_We'll_ go," Luci offered, releasing Harry's hand and standing. "This place is far too public for snogging anyway." She forced a smile towards Ron, but he disregarded her.

"See you later," Harry said to his best friends, and he stood too. He entwined his fingers with Luci's again and then led her from the room.

"Have fun," Hermione called after them.

When they were out of ear shot, Harry asked immediately, "Your _heart_?"

A wash of color rose from beneath the neck of Luci's shirt. "Sorry… that just… popped out."

"No, I like it. It's… sappy."

She smiled bashfully and he chuckled.

"So Ron," she breathed. "Wow."

"I know," sighed Harry. "Can't blame him, I guess."

"Just didn't know how much he hated me."

"He doesn't hate _you_. He hates every_one_ and every_thing_. He'll… get back to normal eventually."

"I hope so," Luci said. Then she carried on to tell him that her _own_ "Ron," whose actual name was Josh, of course, had also been quite hostile to her.

When they had reached a deserted corridor, they finally had their suitable greeting. Then they strolled within the castle for a long while, Luci claiming that it was far too cold to go out onto the grounds. She went over the events of the previous week, how her friends had been very upset, how her mother was attempting to transfer her job, how she'd rushed through all of her tasks so that she could get back to him sooner. Harry had shown her the Room of Requirement, which, for the pair of them, transformed into a replica of the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. Here, he had gone into further detail about his visits with Aberforth and Professor Dumbledore, and she had asked him if he still had nightmares. He had been briefly stunned, until he'd remembered telling her about the nightmare late one night in the _genuine_ drawing room. As they had both been pretty drowsy at the time, she must have really been paying attention. To her question, he had merely said, "Every night," and changed the subject, failing to mention that he'd now developed a new nightmare, wherein his body was still housing the Horcrux and Voldemort was using him to return again.

Ultimately, they had ended up in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. The hallway was uninhabited, so Harry seized another opportunity and wrapped his arms around Luci.

"Hi," he said.

She giggled at him. "Hi."

"Do you wanna come in and see the common room?"

"Some other time," she answered. "I need to– Well, I have someone else to visit too."

Smugly, but as casually as he could, he said, "Yes, but you came to me _first_."

She shook her head in mock irritation, smiling. "Don't gloat."

"I'll _try_," he replied reluctantly. "It'll be packed in there, so I'd better send you off out here."

"Ooh, what kind of send off?"

He simply grinned and kissed her again, gripping her waist and pulling her body closer to his. She made a low hum in the back of her throat and deepened the kiss, more intensely than he had ever experienced. Passion ignited in his blood, flowing throughout his entire body. In visceral response, a faint moan escaped his lips, and Luci abruptly pushed him away. It was like being brought up from beneath warm water.

"What?" he panted, dazed.

"We're in a _hallway_," Luci answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Right." He'd forgotten. Had his feet even been in contact with anything solid? He wasn't sure.

"Talking," she said, the word a breathy wisp. "That's what we need to be doing – talking."

"Talking?" protested Harry. "Why?"

"Because it's… harmless." She was attempting to come off as unaffected, but her cheeks were flushed.

"Trust me, it's _not_," he responded in disappointment.

"Sorry," she said, gritting her teeth. "Guess I'd better go. I'll be back soon, OK?"

"OK," he replied, his breath still short.

Then she was gone, and he turned to the Fat Lady and commanded, "Oddment."

Stepping through the portrait, Harry was greeted by Hermione, who chirped, "How was your afternoon?"

"Brilliant," he said happily.

"She's good for you," she went on. "Look at that grin, Ron."

Ron glanced up. "Sorry I was such a prat to your girl."

Harry laughed. "She understands. Doesn't hold it against you."

"I was thinking," said Hermione.

"Uh, oh," Harry smiled.

"Oh, shut up, Harry," she snapped affably. "About your parents' graves. You never went, did you?"

"Nope."

"Well, if we use the Pass, we can leave the school. Go pay them a visit. Next time Luci's here, if she'll let us borrow it again."

"Of course, she will," said Harry, "but you realize she's coming, as well, right?"

"That's your decision," she nodded.

"It bothers you?"

"Not at all," said Hermione, and he believed her. "She… _comforts_ you, I think. In a way that no one has before. It's… Well, it's good to see, Harry."

"Yeah," he responded simply, his cheeks warming. Then, "What are you studying now?"

"Charms," griped Ron, "and I swear, I'm about to give it all up and go apply for a job with Fred and George!"

* * *

Harry had received an owl from Luci, asking him to meet her in the Astronomy Tower a few days later. He had returned Hedwig with a note refusing the location and requesting another place, _any_ place else. But she had never sent word back to him, so when the afternoon arrived, he trudged up to the Tower. He intended to beckon her out of the room from the doorway, because he had no intention of setting foot in that place ever again.

When his eyes fell upon her, she was gazing out the window, her back to him.

"Why here?" he asked.

She turned to face him. "Hi," she grinned.

"Why _here_?"

"Because you needed to come back," she answered. "To get rid of the nightmares."

He shook his head at the realization that she could still make him angry. "That's not your call to make, Luci. You can't just drag me up here and expect me to be ready for something just because you think I should be."

She blinked, taken aback. "I didn't mean… It's just the only thing that you haven't come to terms with. I thought you might like the opportunity..."

Frowning, he demanded, "What the bloody hell would make you think that? I watched someone I loved fall from that window and _die_!"

Pain spread over her features. "You… you're kind of getting closure in a lot of places, and I thought… I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry. But… neither of us can go forward the way that we… _were_. I haven't been whole, because I've hated myself too much, and I want to give you someone who _is_ whole. Someone who can love you the way that you deserve to be loved."

Harry drew in a long breath. Her methods were never ideal, but it was very clear that she _did_ love him. He pushed the anger aside and gestured for her to continue.

She took a breath. "We were talking about trying to forgive ourselves, so when I was at home, I went to the place where I tried to kill myself. And I sat there. For hours and hours. Crying and trying to figure out how to forgive something like that. Finally, I just promised that I'd do it eventually. And… the other day, after I left here, I went to see my father, and I told him that I'd forgiven him. And I don't know how true it is yet, but I've decided to do it. I've decided to leave the past… in the past. To turn my back on regret. So that you and I, we can just… be together, be happy. But when you told me you were still having nightmares, I knew that you needed to face your demons too. It's just too soon, I guess…"

"No, you're right," he sighed, and he knew that she was. "I _do_ have to face it eventually… and forgive Dumbledore and Snape and myself and your git brother… all of us."

"I shouldn't have rushed you. Or surprised you."

"You tend to go about things the wrong way."

Luci turned her eyes down reprehensibly.

"But I know that you have good intentions," he added gently.

She nodded her head but didn't respond.

His teeth gritted, Harry stepped into the room and moved towards her. Aching immediately materialized in his chest, and he envisioned that evening, everyone in the room, the nightfall… and suddenly, it really _was_ dark outside, and there was a warm summer breeze…

Luci took his hand when he reached her. "That nightmare – you were looking down from the window, yeah?"

He nodded and moved to the Tower's opening. Another flash of memory from that June night skittered through his mind – the feeling of being frozen and helpless. He closed his eyes on the abrupt headache stretching slowly across his temples. He noticed that his breathing had grown labored.

"And you're still having it?"

"Yes."

"Every night?"

"Every night."

His eyes remained shut, and she released his hand, instead wrapping her arms around him from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades. He relaxed slightly.

"No more nightmares," she said. "No more guilt. No more shame. I'm done with mine, and you're done with yours."

He raised his lids, turning his gaze to the ground below. He was on that ledge again. No, it _wasn't_ a ledge… On the ground below, there should have been a crumpled body, but there were only patches of snow upon dead lawn. He was contemplating a jump…

Luci's soothing voice returned to his ears. "You are loved more than you could ever know. And those of us who love you, we don't blame you for anything, so you have to stop blaming yourself."

"It's not that easy," he answered.

"No, it's not easy. But _deciding_ to do it - that's the beginning."

It may have been hours that they stood there that way. Harry wasn't sure. He had been playing over the events in his mind, as he'd done innumerable times, but something _did_ feel… different, _conclusive_. When he noticed that his head was gradually clearing, he turned around inside of the loop of her arms, facing her. For a long moment, they simply gazed wordlessly at one another. Then he murmured, "I love you, Luci."

She smiled faintly. "I want to be worthy of that love."

"You are," said Harry.

Sloping her head thoughtfully, she responded, "I will be."

"There's one more bit of closure that I need," he said softly.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I need to visit my parents' graves. But I need the Pass to do it."

"It's yours," she consented. "I'll wait here for you until you get back."

"No, I _want_ you there."

"Harry, are you sure? Your parents' graves?"

"You act like you're an intruder in my life," he said. "You're _not_. You're _part_ of it. Can't you see that? I would have slugged anyone else who tried this Tower stunt of yours."

He was smiling, but Luci was shamefaced and remained uncertain of his invitation.

"But it's such a personal… _thing_," she argued.

"Even the stuff that it seems impossible for you to understand, you get it. Like the nightmares. And you haven't lost both of your parents, but it's like you know exactly how it feels. Everything that's happened to me, it's made me so… isolated. But I'm not alone with you. And I need you there."

Luci inhaled deeply, pursing her lips. "When?"

"Now. But I need Ron and Hermione there too."

* * *

The only graveyard in Little Whinging was about a mile past the park, along Periwinkle Place. The four of them were wandering among the grounds, reading eulogies and searching for Harry's parents. The winter air was still chilly, but thankfully, it wasn't long before Ron called, "You lot! Over here!"

Ron was standing motionless, staring down at two meager headstones. Harry came up next to him, noticing that the stones read simply "James Potter" and "Lily Potter," nothing more. He gasped a shallow breath. Then, overwhelmed, Harry fell to his knees against the moist ground, his glasses jouncing on his nose.

"Come on," he heard Hermione whisper, and the three of them left him there alone.

He hadn't wanted them to go, but he was unable to find his voice, in order to ask them to stay. The hot tears were streaming down his face, stinging against the contrast of his frozen cheeks. He could no longer breathe through his nose, so he was gulping frigid air into his already parched throat.

At last, he choked, "Hi Mum, hi Dad."

He ran his hand through the frostbitten grass that grew over where their bodies were laid. A dull pain behind his eyes threatened his mental clarity. He shook his head, managing, "I did it. Killed Voldemort, that is. I avenged you…" The only response was the wind in his ears. "But it doesn't bring you back," he sobbed.

The sun was drawing weary, the clouds collecting shadows. This overcast light lent itself to Harry's mood, and the reality that he would never see his parents again clutched at his chest. He'd always known it, of course, somewhere inside of him, but there was something very final about being here. He sat there in silence for a while, allowing himself to weep, to unreservedly give in to his emotions.

At length, and after taking in a rattling breath, he said to the ground, "You've missed a lot."

The tears were drying on his skin, and his face felt stiff as he spoke shakily. "It's not your fault, obviously, but… I feel like I _miss_ you, but can you miss people that you've never truly known? I don't know. But I miss you anyway. I've missed… _knowing_ you, I guess." He sighed. "I'm not making any sense."

The knees of his trousers were soaked through, so he leaned back onto his trainers.

"Professor Dumbledore is dead, and so is Snape, Mum. I don't really get it, whatever you had with him, but I thought you'd like to know. He died a hero, actually. Oh, and I got some of your things from the house; I'll take good care of them. Dad, you have no idea how helpful the Invisibility Cloak has been all these years, so thanks for leaving it… Oh, hey, Sirius is safe! We thought we'd lost him, but he's back, and Wormtail has paid for what he did to you. He'll be trapped in an awful place for, well, forever, I guess. And Lupin's doing great, in love with a really fun girl named Tonks."

By now, the words were tumbling over each other as they spilled from his mouth. He just _knew_ that his parents could hear him, and he wanted to tell them everything, absolutely everything.

"My best friends are in love," he went on. "Ron and Hermione. With each other. It was a little weird at first, but now, I don't mind so much. I'm in love too, actually. Her name is Luci and she's… wonderful. Really smart, as smart as Hermione. You'd like her. She's an Auror, but she's kind of taking a break right now, because she did something slightly illegal to protect me… And as soon as I graduate, I'll study to be an Auror too. This is our last year at Hogwarts, so it won't be long… Wow, our last year… I suppose when your life is as mental as mine has been, time goes by more quickly. I feel a lot older than seventeen..."

The tears had ceased, and Harry, somehow, was feeling quite hopeful, and incongruously at peace

"I know there's more to tell you, but so much has happened… Sometimes I feel like I'll forget it all, like there's not enough room in my head for all of the memories, you know? Hey, I was in the Triwizard Tournament a few years back! Wasn't supposed to be, of course, and it was all some scheme of Voldemort's, but I did sort of win. I tied with this great bloke called Cedric Diggory, and when we got to the Cup, it was a portkey, and Wormtail killed him. Then I sort of dated his ex-girlfriend for a bit. It was really strange. Probably not one of my better moments. I've had _loads_ of bad moments… I've wasted so much energy being so bloody angry. It took me ages to figure out that loving people was so much easier and so much more effective. But I learn my lessons eventually." He grinned sheepishly at the headstones. "I'm a lot like both of you, everyone tells me. I'm a little bit cocky like you, Dad, but Mum, you saved my life, and it gave me all of your best qualities too. I'm… really grateful. I wasn't for a long time, because I was so unhappy and I caused everyone so much pain, but now… I think maybe my life will be… good. And I owe that to pair of you. You may not have been parents for very long, but you were the best parents in history. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to honor your sacrifice. Forgive me for not doing it sooner."

Harry waved his arm towards the three onlookers, summoning them.

"I'll bring them over, but I won't officially introduce you – a bit too mental. Hermione's got the brown hair, and Luci's the blonde. If Ron's a prat, it's because he's just lost his mum and his brother; he isn't really like that."

"Harry?" asked Hermione, her teeth chattering, despite the fact that she'd conjured a blanket for herself. "Do you… need something?"

Luci and Ron were still standing a few yards away, beneath a tree. Luci was swathed in a quilt, as well.

Harry glanced up at Hermione, beaming. "Yeah, I need you lot."

"You… you're… downright _cheerful_!" said Hermione uncertainly as she gestured for Ron and Luci to join them.

"Yeah, I feel great," Harry responded.

"We thought you were…" began Hermione, but she trailed off.

"Luci," Harry beckoned, as she approached, "come here."

She crouched down beside him. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, fantastic," he answered brightly, reaching for her hand.

Luci furrowed her brow and Ron said, "You sure, mate?"

"You _are_ acting a little bizarre, Harry," Luci agreed.

"I _feel_ bizarre," said Harry indolently. "You know, Ron, Hermione, the pair of you have basically gotten me through my life? I had no one, absolutely no one, and you both accepted me and stuck with me through all of it."

Hermione brushed a strand of her short, curly hair out of her face, replying softly, cautiously, "Well, we _love_ you, Harry..."

Perhaps his disposition was worrying them. "I'm all right," he said. "Really. Just… I feel like a teenager all the sudden!" He paused. "My parents, they're gone, but they'll never _really_ be gone, you know?"

Ron took in a deep breath and sat down across from him on the grass. "Harry, I've been awful. I've lost my mum, but you've lost _both_ of your parents. I've had no right to be so harsh." He looked away. "To any of you," he added.

Harry shook his head. "Of course you had the right. Loss is loss."

Everyone was silent for a moment, and Harry ran his fingers over Luci's left wrist, pale and flawless, even though she'd sliced it open once upon a time…

"Not even a hint of a scar," he marveled.

"Nope," said Luci nonchalantly.

"Lucky," Ron commented, touching his fingers gingerly to his own scars. "No disfigurement for _you_."

"Visible memories, Ron," insisted his girlfriend.

"Visible memories. I love that," chimed Harry's own girlfriend.

"Scars have their purposes," Harry agreed, his eyes on the inadequate headstones. He silently promised himself that he'd replace them with something splendid. James and Lily were the real heroes, after all, because they had given him a chance to live. He realized that his mother would never truly know what an extraordinary act of love she had performed that fateful night. And then, for the first time in seven years, Harry was grateful for his scar.


	34. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The newborn had his mother's eyes.

Harry couldn't deny that the child that he held in his arms would change everything.

"You know, I thought it'd be you and me here," came Ginny's voice. She sauntered up behind him and put an arm around his waist.

"What? Married with kids?"

"Yep."

His heart began to race and he had no idea how to respond. So he just asked, "Really?"

She shrugged. "I'd hoped, I guess."

"Ginny…"

"It's OK," she cut in. "I'm happy. And you seem happy too. With her."

"I am."

"The Chudley Cannons, they offered me a full-time position," she said softly.

He finally took his eyes from the baby and turned to get a good look at her. She was still breathtaking. "Wow, Ginny… Congratulations! What position?"

"Seeker, of course."

"But I thought Cho had been playing their Seeker for years?"

"She has," replied Ginny, "but she's been injured. Something dreadful if it can't be fixed with magic. But she'll be consulting on the team, for the time being."

"So you'll accept?"

"Yes, I think so. Coaching at Hogwarts has been great, but now that Neville and I are broken up, it's a little weird, you know?"

"He's still teaching Herbology then?"

She nodded.

Neville had taken over Professor Sprout's career as soon as he'd passed his N.E.W.T.s. Ginny had started her job a few months after her own graduation, the following year. Of Harry's classmates, only one other had remained on at Hogwarts, and that was Luna. When Professor Grubbly-Plank had retired, Luna had applied for the Care of Magical Creatures position. Ever since, she had been hailed as the greatest educator on the subject that Hogwarts had ever seen, though she often spoke to her students about creatures that she was unable to actually produce for examination.

"So when will you leave?" Harry asked Ginny.

"Not sure yet."

"I should have known," interrupted a voice, and they turned to see Luci in the doorway. "Weasley hair."

Harry grinned. "I just wish that his grandmother was here to see him."

"Mmm," Luci agreed.

"So do I," said Ginny, staring down at the child.

After a few moments, Luci said, still from the doorway, "OK, put little Charlie down so we can all go congratulate the proud parents."

In a way, Harry had been dreading this day since Ron and Hermione's wedding over a year prior. This _did_ change everything. Marriage and children – they were happening everywhere that he looked. But something just didn't sit right with him. He had yet to ask Luci to marry him, though he had certainly toyed with the idea. He had repeatedly told her that he wasn't ready, even though she'd never pressured him; in fact, she'd always been very understanding. It was just that he often found himself missing his days at Hogwarts, his days of fighting Lord Voldemort, his days of _adventure_.

Training up to be an Auror was far more tedious than he'd ever imagined, and it involved more reading than actual utilization. Luci had never gone back to it. The two of them had been living together in her flat for almost a year now, and though she'd helped him immensely through his own Auror studies, she had now decided that she preferred teaching to doing. She had made a joke long ago about instructing anger management classes, but she had ended up presiding over an Auror preparation course intended for seventh year students at Hogwarts. "Those who can't do teach," she would say in her cheerful, self-deprecating way.

Ron had also left the Auror profession behind, dropping out of the program shortly before his wedding. He was now working a high-profile job alongside his wife and father in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Hermione, with the assistance of Percy, had also established a new branch within the Ministry, called the Intelligent Creature Welfare Office, wherein she promoted fair treatment of all non-human magical creatures, including, but not limited to, house-elves. In her spare time, she was attending a Muggle university.

But, today, her priorities would change.

They found her in her hospital bed, somnolent and babbling something about Ron being the one to stay home with the newborn. "I am a career woman," she was saying authoritatively before she noticed her visitors and drawled, "Oh, did you _see_ him? Isn't he just _brilliant_?"

"She's a bit out of it right now," Arthur Weasley whispered to Harry.

"He's beautiful, Hermione," said Ginny, going to the side of the bed to hug her.

"You've just created your biggest accomplishment, career woman," Luci agreed, kissing her on the forehead. "And a Virgo too!" The pair of them had grown very close over the past few years and could rarely be seen apart. They still revised together, for no particular reason, except that they both enjoyed it so much. Hermione had even helped Luci to come up with the syllabus for her course at Hogwarts.

Harry was clapping Ron on the back. "Congratulations, mate!"

"Oi," groaned Ron. "It certainly was exhausting!"

"Excuse me," Hermione called from the bed, "but aren't _I_ the one who did all the work?"

"Yes, Hermione," agreed Ron, with an exasperated glance at Harry.

"So, Harry…" Hermione began, "when are you going to give Draco a niece or nephew?"

Harry grimaced. He and Draco still didn't get on, though they _had_ taken to calling one another by their first names, which Luci deemed acceptable improvement. Thankfully, they rarely saw one another, as Luci was considerate enough to hold her visits with her brother in neutral locations, or at Malfoy Manor. Draco had graduated from Hogwarts at the top of his year, coming in only behind Hermione, a Ravenclaw called Lisa Turpin, and Harry himself. However, he had yet to obtain any proper occupation. Luci said that he spent most of his time searching for a cure for their father, who remained in Azkaban. Harry had reckoned that this was a waste of time, but Luci thought that if he succeeded, it would be a celebrated achievement. His mother, Narcissa, had discovered Muggle spirits and had become an alcoholic, leaving Luci as the only support that Draco had, so she did what she could to encourage him.

"Um…" Harry had stammered, in answer to Hermione's question, but was exceedingly relieved when the twins bustled into the room, followed by Bill and Fleur, who were each bouncing a child upon their hip.

"Greetings, new daddy!" cheered George, and he hugged Ron enthusiastically. Fred joined in until they were squeezing Ron breathless and he complained, "Get off me!"

"For you," said George, offering Ron a large white box.

"New product?" Ron asked, removing the lid. "What do I do? Turn this knob?"

"Right," said Fred.

Ron reached into the box and they heard a clicking sound, and then confetti exploded from the container, filling the room and igniting a fit of giggles from almost everyone.

The twins had expanded their joke shop business and now created almost any enchanted item that you could want. They were making enough money to support the entire Weasley family, as well as families of their own, but neither of them had coupled up yet. Sometimes, they would bring round their dates, but it was rare that anyone saw the same girl twice.

Bill was ardently shaking his youngest brother's hand, while Fleur was cooing at Hermione, "He iz so bee-you-tee-ful! Ov courz, he cannot compare to my babiez, but zat is to be expected."

The blonde two-year-old girl in her arms tugged at the glistening hair flowing down Fleur's shoulders. The child's younger brother was equally high-maintenance, drooling uncontrollably all over Bill's button-down shirt. Harry suddenly found himself overwhelmed and stepped out of the room, into the hallway, sucking in cool air.

Luci appeared around the corner momentarily. "Are you OK, my heart?" The silly moniker had caught on years ago.

"Yeah. Just crowded in there."

She smiled and nodded in agreement. "Let's say goodbye and we'll go to Mama's and tell her the news."

Melissa had married Sirius a few months prior, so when Luci spoke of her mother's home, she meant Grimmauld Place. And, suddenly, Harry couldn't think of anything that he wanted more right now than to talk to Sirius.

* * *

When Harry and Luci arrived at number twelve, they found Sirius and Melissa playing a Muggle card game in the kitchen. It was a Saturday, so Melissa, who was an associate at a prestigious Muggle corporation, was home with her husband. Sirius was still unemployed and spent his time exploring. After years in prison, and then years in the purgatory of the Veil, he claimed that he had no use for the shackles of a career. Lupin often traveled with him, leaving Tonks at home with their plethora of pets.

"Hermione had the baby!" chimed Luci in salutation.

"Oh, wonderful!" her mother cheered. "What'd they name him?"

"Charlie, of course," answered Harry.

"Fitting name," Sirius approved.

Melissa, who had a soft spot for babies, beseeched, "So tell me all about him!"

"Sirius, can I talk to you?" asked Harry, as Luci sat down next to her mother.

"Ah, rescue!" he said jovially, and Melissa gave him a reproachful smile.

In the drawing room, Sirius asked, "So everyone's happy and healthy?"

"Yep," answered Harry.

"Then why so glum?"

"I'm… confused."

"'Bout what?" Sirius inquired, having a seat.

Harry parked himself on the sofa. "All of this… settling down."

Sirius grinned. "A free spirit like your godfather, eh?"

"But you're married."

"Married, but not settled," agreed Sirius. "I found a woman who is happy to let me have my adventures, and to journey with me most of the time, so we get on. You think Luci wants to settle down?"

"I don't know. I mean… I guess I've never asked. She's never demanded anything from me or mentioned being unfulfilled or wanting more or anything…"

His godfather nodded. "You need to talk to your girl, Harry. Figure out what you want, and talk to her."

"I want… to travel. Maybe with you? Have adventures too, you know?"

"Happy to have you along," smiled Sirius. "What about your friends here?"

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "Everything has changed. They don't need me anymore."

"They will be busier, yes, but they'll always need you."

Harry shrugged.

"And your studies?"

"I'll take a break," Harry responded. "I can always come back to it."

"True. And what if Luci _does_ want a different future?"

"I… I don't know. I love her. I wanna marry her. I wanna travel _with_ her… I just… I'm not ready for anything _more_ than that, right now."

"But you're ready to marry her?"

"Yes."

"Harry, you don't need my advice. It sounds like you know exactly what you want. You just need to talk to your better half."

"Better half?" asked Harry, feigning indignation.

"Oh, you know it's true," Sirius laughed.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

That night, Harry crawled into bed next to her.

"Luci?"

"Harry?" she queried in reply, glancing up at him from the novel that she was reading.

"If I asked you to leave with me, would you?"

With a questioning expression, she closed the book. "I'd go anywhere with you. Do you _want_ to leave?"

"I've never been out of Britain. All of this settling down, I can't do it. Not yet. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. I want… adventure and new experiences. I'm just afraid that… that we don't want the same things, I guess."

Luci was studying his face. "I knew that something was bothering you and I just kept waiting for you to talk to me about it." She pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Harry, I'm not in any hurry to lose my freedom either. Being in that hospital room today… it was _crowded_ for me too. So if you wanna travel, I'll follow you wherever you'd like to go, or I'll wait for you if you'd rather go alone. I don't need any commitments from you; I know that you love me."

Harry released a breath of relief at her declaration that she shared his feelings. Then he went on, "No, I haven't worded it right. I want us to travel _together_."

She smiled. "I can't think of anything that would be more fun."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

"Marry me then."

Luci laughed. "Harry, you don't have to propose to me to get me to go away with you."

"I know," he grinned. "Marry me anyway."

"Oh, all right," she agreed good-naturedly, as though she thought that he was joking.

Harry leaned over and pulled the small black box from the dresser on his side of the bed. There was dust on the top of it, and he brushed it away with his thumb.

"No, I'm serious," he said soberly, removing the lid and revealing his mother's engagement ring.

Luci's eyes got wide. "Oh my god…"

"It's not much."

"No, no, it's… gorgeous! I _love_ it. Really."

"It was my mum's," he added softly.

"Oh, _Harry_." Tears were slowly cascading down her cheeks and she wiped at them with the back of her hand.

His chest filled with warmth at the sight of this. "Will you?"

"Yes. You know I will." Her eyes moved from the ring and met his. "Put it on for me?"

Harry nodded and took the band from the box, sliding it carefully onto her pale finger. It was quite a bit too large, so he waved his hand over hers, reducing it to fit. Then it was _perfect_.

**T****HE ****E****ND**

_

* * *

_

Beloved Readers,

_I am devastated to say that our story has come to an end. The official date of completion is June 27, 2007. In less than a month, we will know if I got anything right._

_If you are at all interested in hearing more from me, and an author can only dream of this, you can read The Progeny of the Pure-Blood's partner story, The Death Eater's Daughter. You will find the new tale here: www . fanfiction . net/s/3626193/1/_

_Those of you who have gone on this adventure with me, I am so grateful for your continued reading, your reviews, and your encouragement._

_Love,_

_Sunny_


	35. A Humble Deathly Hallows Review

I have never, in my entire life, read a book in two days. This is due, mostly, to my immense love for books, and how I like to devour them slowly and taste every word. However, I have now broken this trend.

It started at two o'clock in the morning on July 21st. I could only stay awake until 5:00. Then I read all day Saturday, pausing only for meals and a two-hour nap with the book open upon my stomach, my finger poised on a paragraph regarding some boring thing the Trio was doing in the woods. At 4:30 Sunday morning, I went to bed again, more than halfway finished. Currently, it's 3:07am on Monday morning and I only just finished a few minutes ago. And the one word that is singing in my head? **Disappointment****.**

When I returned home from my midnight party at Borders and sat down to begin, it was bittersweet. I stared at the cover, half afraid to open it. It was blurry, Harry's face swimming, because my eyes were filled with tears. I finally cracked the binding and read the first words, those of J.K. Rowling, dedicating the book to me because I've stuck with Harry until the very end. Yes, and I will stick with him still. Even though the prat married Ginny. The next words, those of Aeschylus and William Penn, I read aloud, my breath short with a mixture of anticipation and mourning. I also read the first few bits of the first chapter aloud, but then I realized that I'd have no voice if I continued on this way.

The first chapter felt bizarrely like fanfiction, of which I've read little, but of which does have a very distinct "feel" to it. Voldemort's character seemed oddly… uncharacteristic of Voldemort, which would only appear in this first chapter. Now, in Half-Blood Prince, there was all of this talk from the Malfoys about how angry Voldemort would be if Draco failed at his mission to kill Dumbledore. Well, Draco failed, and it's never mentioned in this book. Voldemort doesn't reprimand him, doesn't seem angry, doesn't even bring it up. Very unsatisfying.

But as I continued reading, I realized, with a jolt, that this was _not_ fanfiction. No Harry Potter fan would kill an innocent snowy owl. It is unnecessary and cruel, and why Jo would do such a thing is beyond me. And it was the only death that I cried over, in the entire book, though there would be many more to follow. Yes, I am the vegetarian, PETA type, I'm afraid. I thought about calling them and reporting her, in fact…

I was grieving Hedwig so thoroughly that I hardly noticed Mad-Eye Moody's death. But later, I realized that this was because it was so brief, and so unmentioned afterwards. I must pause in these thoughts to say that I felt about this book the same way that I felt about the _Order of the Phoenix_ film – it was BIZARRE. There were just many things that didn't feel right. And the book was very unlike the J.K. Rowling that I've known in the past.

Oh, backtracking, I thought it was nice that Dudley had a little redemption, though I felt that it, too, was brief. Perhaps Jo should have written eight books, because everything was just too rushed and she couldn't give it the attention and detail and emotion that it deserved, and this bled through the entire novel. NO other Harry Potter book has felt this way. Cry. I still wish she'd released it 06-07-08. The woman needed another year, and then maybe she would have gotten it right.

Of course, I should clarify that I did, indeed, enjoy the book. How could I not? This series has touched me like nothing else has in my life, unless you count Hanson, and I do. So, yes, I liked the book. But I think that my fondness for it is entirely based upon Snape-like loyalty, because when I look at it from my faint objective standpoint, it is very flawed. And I enjoyed it far less than I expected to enjoy it.

Ladies of the HP Theatre Fan Trip, I would like all of you to turn to page 161 and relish the words in the middle of the page. Yes. I shrieked aloud at that.

All of this new stuff about Dumbledore was great, and I loved seeing how very imperfect and infallible he was. He was human, just like the rest of us, and like Sirius said, there was light _and_ dark inside of him. At first, it scared me, because I was like, "Okay, if Jo has all of these previous questions to answer, why is she giving herself new questions to answer?" It turns out that she answered her new questions superbly, but in effect, her old ones fell by the wayside. Apparently, she does not spend enough time on the Lexicon, run by the brilliant and lovely Steve Vander Ark.

I was so excited by Kreacher becoming a cool and loving house-elf! That was the bomb, I must say. Harry realizing that all he had to do was be kind to the elf and he would win his devotion – that was wonderful. And something that all humankind should know, but most fail to realize, I imagine. You get more bees with honey, and whatnot. Most people seem oblivious to this.

Anyowl (but not Hedwig, cuz she's dead), Voldemort and his "fellows" taking over practically the entire Wizarding world was appropriate and terrifying (and something I entirely forgot in my own version of Book 7, regrettably). It gave the book the hopeless and desperate feeling that it really needed to be the dramatic climax that it was intended to be. And it reminded me nauseatingly of our own government, using fear to control its people.

Ah, the fighting of the Trio. They are the best part of all of these books. Even as make-believe characters, they have such amazing chemistry, and even as three young actors on a screen, the electricity is brilliant between them. The best scene in _OOTP_, hands down, is the three of them talking in the Common Room after Harry kisses Cho. It's so enchanting that it gives me goosebumps, even after seeing the film a ridiculous number of times. So, in not so short, I was thrilled by this fight between them, even though we temporarily lost Ron. It was still stimulating, and I was getting dreadfully bored of hearing about them doing absolutely nothing in the middle of the woods. Boy, did those chapters crawl by…

I knew they shouldn't have followed that creepy old lady… Is it just me, or does Harry have very little common sense? Sure, he has other wonderful qualities, but where's some good old street smarts when you need 'em?

I'm going to do this now. Where the frak were the Malfoys? GOD, I love the Malfoys, and I am so disappointed at how little they were in this book. I certainly hoped for some revelations about the beautiful Draco and that he, too, wasn't really on Voldy's side. I really, really feel like Jo didn't do justice to Draco, as a character of her own creation. He is beloved by many of us in the fandom, and those of us who adore him were left hungry and… pissed off, if I'm being honest about it.

Okay, while I'm asking questions, who was really frustrated by the lack of time we spent in Godric's Hollow? Hiss! Now, I hoped to see inside of the house, and I hoped to see a little more emotion from Harry at his parents' graves, or at least a little more time spent there. Oi! If you feel the same way, read my fanfiction. Can't believe I wrote important things that Jo decided could be left out. RARR!

Ahem. Though I was wrong about most everything. There were some things where I got ridiculously spot on, and some things I felt I had better ideas than she did. Ah, well. It is what it is, isn't it?

I still love and admire Jo, even though she is an owl killer. She is still brilliant and wonderful, and I worship at her feet every time I read her battle scenes, because they are superb and something I'm quite rubbish at, myself. And the woman's imagination is paralleled only by those who have gone before her, like the beloved Tolkien, Lewis, and Carroll. And perhaps some current authors, like Anne Rice, though she's gone "gaga," I hear.

From the first moment I saw that doe, I knew it had something to do with Lily. But that was all that I knew. And the scene with Ron rescuing Harry and the two of them destroying the locket? That was the first time in my reading that I truly got onto the edge of my couch. And, boy, did Ron continue to impress after that point! I hope that, after all he did in Book 7, the poor kid can get out from beneath Harry Potter's shadow, despite Voldy Horcrux's awful words.

But I did expect more heroism from Neville. Sure, he took care of the last Horcrux and acted bravely and all that, but who wanted to see him torture Bella and avenge his parents? God, it annoyed the hell out of me that it didn't happen that way! Molly taking her down was slightly cool, but not half as cool as it would have been to have the Longbottoms' Revenge. At least he did end up teaching Herbology – knew that was coming.

The Three Brothers! _Finally_, a surprise! Something I wasn't expecting, something intriguing, something new. I was just sure that the Deathly Hallows were another way of talking about Horcruxes, but Jo did surprise me there. I would have never expected what she came up with, and it had nothing to do with Horcruxes or King Arthur, as had been often speculated. She did an outstanding job with this bit in the story. Though I would have _loved_ to see Harry not die because he became the master of death, not because his blood ran in Voldemort's veins. Would have been awesome. Instead, the items went their separate ways and had no use as a threesome, though they were quite useful separately. I find that most people were confused by the whole Hallows thing, especially the Elder Wand, but it all made enough sense to me. We have to remember, of course, Steve's discovery: Jo Logic.

The main surprises that came to me in this book were the LACK of important events. There were things that I was just _certain_ would happen, but they didn't, and the things that _did_ happen were lame compared with what she could have done. We all thought that Wormtail's silver hand was going to be something awesome, and then it just turned and strangled him. Are you _kidding_ me? She could have done loads of amazing things with Wormtail, but instead, you'll have to find them in fanfiction, because she failed us there.

And Greyback not being killed by someone he'd attacked? Bill, Lupin, even Fleur, who suffered at his teeth? Terribly uncool. I am very keen on justice, and Greyback's victims did not get justice.

Perhaps she didn't want to be predictable, and that's why she copped out on a lot of things?

I do still love her. I promise.

At least we were all right about Ollivander being kidnapped. But what of old Florean Fortescue? Where'd she go?

And THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS? Oh my GOD! She didn't explain the twenty-four hours, and I am positively _seething_ over it! And I'm still not happy with the rationalization for Harry's scar, when the killing curse leaves no mark, and a Horcrux backfiring into something (or some_one_) leaves no mark. Otherwise, Nagini would have a little lightning bolt on her forehead too, wouldn't she? Dammit. Damn it all.

Okay, we got _nothing_ about that bloody Veil! Nothing! We _all_ thought that she would explain it, and she didn't even bother! What about the rest of our questions? Who's the person who came to magic later in life? What on earth was the room that they couldn't open in the Department of Mysteries? What did Dudley see when the Dementor kissed him? Weren't we supposed to see the Ford Anglia again?

Sigh. At least Sev was good, after all. I knew it, of course, and had almost the same reasons in my own story. Though I would have loved a good Snape/Lily memory snog. But I wasn't shocked by any of it, of course. I'm glad Snape was loyal. But I wish, wish to GOD, that he'd died redeeming himself – taking down a Horcrux or helping Harry in some way. Dying at the teeth of Nagini was beneath him, as a character. Jo must not realize that Snape is one of the greatest literary characters of our time. He was brilliantly created by her, enigmatic and complicated and dynamic. I have always loved him for this. So when he died being almost eaten by Nagini, without any kind of closure with Harry, despite the fact that he'd helped Harry more than almost anyone, I was just… heartbroken, I guess. Once again, she didn't do herself justice, and she didn't do her fans justice, and she didn't do her spectacular character justice.

But I did really love the scene with Hermione snogging Ron and Harry going, "This is the moment, isn't it?" It was so magical that I read it over a few times and sighed happily to myself. Jo had a romantic success there. Very sweet.

The battle at Hogwarts was nothing short of magnificent. This was always Jo's forte. I enjoyed every minute of it, my heart pounding, my hands sweating (perhaps from holding up a fifty pound book for hours), my body fidgeting. I cannot believe that we lost Fred, and that Lupin and Tonks both died, leaving Teddy an orphan, though I expect that this was Jo's attempt at mirroring Harry to both the kid _and_ Sirius. I was really shocked that we didn't lose any more important characters. I was certain we'd lose Hagrid, and one of the Weasley parents. Instead, we lost Fred, separating him from George. And somehow, it's crueler, isn't it? Yet, no one seemed to really mourn him for very long.

This was my main problem with the Epilogue. The crappiest Epilogue ever known to man, by the way. I wanted to see how on earth George got on without his twin, and what happened to everyone else! The other Weasleys, Luna, the Hogwarts staff! Instead, we got a few pages listing the names of the Trio's children. So Harry marries Ginny and they breed like rabbits. Barf-inducing. Really. Gag me with a spoon. But Jo was never good at romantic relationships, so I was pleased to see very little of that in this book. But what a disgusting ending. So unbelievably _cheesy_ and beneath the series as a whole. I just wanted so much more, and that's the tagline, isn't it? I WANT MORE!

The best thing about finishing this final story is that I can now return to the internet, which I've been avoiding for days. But I expected to bawl my eyes out when I closed Deathly Hallows. I didn't, and I don't know why. Something inside of me is definitely devastated, broken. Yet… I found the book anti-climactic and unsettled. I want Version 2.0. And I think, for me, this is a good thing, because it helps soften the sense of loss. I was so terrified of reading this book, thinking I'd be entirely inconsolable, with all of my questions answered. Instead, I still have questions, and I'm still downright _starving_.

What a PITY.

I suspect Nargles are behind it.


End file.
